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OP
OP
AN APOLOGUE.
A NEW VERSION OF AN OLD STORY.
Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly,
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I've a many curious things to shew when you are there."
Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."
"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!"
Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"
Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, " Dear friend what can I do,
To prove the warm affection I 've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome -- will you please to take a slice?"
"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind Sir, that cannot be,
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"
"Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise,
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you 're pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."
The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
"Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple -- there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"
Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue --
Thinking only of her crested head -- poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlour -- but she ne'er came out again!
And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.
Mary Howitt 1804
Notes on Life and Works
Mary Botham, born at Coleford, Gloucestershire, was daughter of Samuel Botham, a Quaker, and in 1821 married William Howitt. They turned to joint-authoring for a living and made a success of their many interests. She wrote novels such as Wood Leighton, a history of the United States, and many poems and stories for children; and she translated both the Swedish novels of Frederica Bremer and Hans Christian Anderson's fairy tales (as Wonderful Stories for Children). They lived abroad at Heidelberg and Rome, where she died in 1888, having converted from Quakerism and spiritualism to Roman Catholicism in 1882. Her daughter Margaret edited the Autobiography of her mother (London: W. Isbister, 1889; PR 4809 H2Z52 Robarts Library). Mary's books of verse include Sketches of Natural History (1834) and Ballads and other Poems (London: Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1847; PR 4809 H2A6 Robarts Library).
http://www.library.utoronto.ca/utel/rp/authors/howittm.html#notes
As the poem calls it a new version of an old story, my guess is that it is based on a folk tale, maybe someone can find an earlier reference.
!What really made me laugh is the description in the poem pretty much describes my own three and a half
!
http://www.arts.uwaterloo.ca/ENGL/courses/engl208c/esharris.htm
I don't know, I was wondering what it was too. I've never seen anything that specifically reminded me of it (for example one of Aesop's fables) but I'd be surprised if it didn't originate in an oral tradition, it is hard to imagine that the idea of a spider luring prey into the web is new. As Bill says it could be a nursery rhyme but I can't remember any specific one. I'll keep looking.
he "spider to the fly" is not really a Mother Goose rhyme, though one occasionally finds it in a collection. Try Granger's index of poetry at your library to see if you can locate the source.
The Spider and the Fly" written by Mary Howitt-contained in the collection "One hundred and One Famous Poems" Compiled by Roy J. Cook,
Reilly and Lee Co. 1958-if you want the text I could e-mail it to you or fax it? Bob
I found the poem with name and dates of author
Mary Howitt (1799-1888)
The Spider And The Fly
"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to
the fly;
"'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you may
spy.
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to show when
you are there."
"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "to ask me is in
vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er
come down again."
"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring
up so high.
Well you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider
to the fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the
sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest a while, I'll snugly tuck you
in!"
"Oh no, no," said the little fly, "for I've often
heard it said,
They never, never wake again who sleep upon
your bed!"
Said the cunning spider to the fly: "Dear friend,
what can I do
To prove the warm affection I've always felt for
you?
I have within my pantry good store of all that's
nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome - will you please to
take a slice?"
"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "kind sir, that
cannot be:
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not
wish to see!"
"Sweet creature!" said the spider, "you're witty
and you're wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings; how
brilliant are your eyes!
I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf;
If you'd step in one moment, dear, you shall
behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what
you're pleased to say,
And, bidding you good morning now, I'll call
another day."
The spider turned him round about, and went into
his den,
For well he knew the silly fly would soon come
back again:
So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready to dine upon the fly;
Then came out to his door again and merrily did
sing:
"Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with pearl and
silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple; there's a crest
upon your head;
Your eyes are like diamond bright, but mine are
dull as lead!"
Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly
flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and
nearer grew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes and green and
purple hue,
Thinking only of her crested head. Poor, foolish
thing! at last
Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held
her fast;
He dragged her up his winding stair, into the
dismal den -
Within his little parlor - but she ne'er came out
again!
And now, dear little children, who may this story
read,
To idle, silly flattering words I pray you ne'er give
heed;
Unto an evil counselor close heart and ear and
eye,
And take a lesson from this tale of the spider and
the fly.
Dunno, but I'd suggest that the Grimms might have understood it!
The idiot also known as Capfka ...
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