A widow is waiting quietly,
On her porch near this den of thieves.
Can you hear the spinnerets clicking,
As she sits in her web and weaves?

She patiently sits and wonders,
Who will come to see her smile?
As a fly he trips and blunders,
When he should have run a mile.

Beware the widow dressed all in black,
In her home just up the lane.
There's a door at the front and one at the back,
And they open again and again!

She knows what is going to come about,
And she knows it won't happen by chance,
For she's laid her traps and set things out,
And she's set for the fateful dance.