A Rhyme of Reasons
A man lay caught in a spider's web
And watched with mournful eyes
As people came, and stood and stared,
And called on others in surprise.
'For shame!', some cried, 'How scandalous
That men should lie in webs all day,
And live off taxes paid by us;
These scroungers ought to pay.'
'Hush', said more, 'it's rather sad
That folk are caught out in the cold.
Better that we should be glad
Of our homes, and not scold.'
Others wondered how a man
Could come to be in such a state;
If this had always been his plan
Or just a stroke of fate.
'Perhaps it is because he's old
And thinks old thoughts of things long dead,
And just as old books gather mould,
He's gathered a cobweb.'
But sights go dim to watchers' eyes
As reasons cloud the mind,
While spiders don't philosophise,
And therefore don't go blind.
So as the crowd grows bored and drifts
Upon its daily way,
Within the web the spider shifts
And moves to bind its prey.