the bouncing spider

schnyder schnyder
the bouncing spider
had a song
wound up inside her

she'd had it taped
on a silken spool
this was the song
she sang as a rule

o little fly
come be my friend
i have fly's gold
for you to spend

i'll wrap you in silks
to make you pretty
if you refuse
then more's the pity

the silk-voice warbled
through the wood
the best bird-song
didn't seem so good

but no flies came
they were too fly
looking through the song
to the web's black eye

o schnyder schnyder
the bouncing spider
who had a song
wound up inside her

passed through hunger
to the edge of death
the wood stopped growing
and held its breath

one day the silken
web was still
and curious flies
came to find how ill

the spider was – but
becoming too daring
many got stuck
in the silken snaring

but schnyder schnyder
the bouncing spider
who had a song
wound up inside her

presented thus
with a feast of flies
cried weakly in anger
i despise i despise

such dull victims
that have no ear
for the silken song
i keep in here

but when in silence
this web is wrapped
stupid and nosey
they all get trapped

and the web grew slack
in the dying wood
the poor flies wriggled
but it did no good

and schnyder schnyder
the bouncing spider
who had a song
wrapped up inside her

spun into herself
to disappear
he was lost to the world
for many a year

but whether she meant it
or it was a fearful tangle
she came out one night
in the african jungle

she was in a tree
quite close to the sun
in the topmost branch
her web was spun

its silken strands
in the sun's gold rays
dazzled her neighbours
into fulsome praise

and soon the jungle
was wrapt in a sound
(as the bouncing spider's
song unwound)

whose piercing beauty
brought dew to the eyes
of every creature
but the jungle flies

no one could tell
what the song might mean
the song and the web
made so rare a screen

and schnyder schnyder
the bouncing spider
who had a song
wound up inside her

wove her sad magic
both day and night
the moon and the sun
never shone so bright

and after the rains
had moistened the jungle
it wore the spider
like a jewelled bangle

the jungle flies though
soon went mad
unable to hear
a song so sad

they buzzed and bashed
uncontrollably
every tree bore signs
of their mortality

it couldn't be guessed
on what the spider fed
no victim was lured
into the sparkling web

yet schnyder schnyder
the bouncing spider
who had a song
wound up inside her

never stopped singing
and the jungle grows
to this very day
in the song's sad throes

but don't go looking
for the bouncing spider
who has a song
wound up inside her

what you can't see
you can always dream
what's song to one
is another's scream

and each one is born
with a touch of fly
that can't tell beauty
from a spit in the eye

and schnyder schnyder
the bouncing spider
who has a song
wound up inside her

with intolerable sheen
puts the price too high
love me or fear me
be enchanted or die