She sits on a hard wood stool.
Spiders do not sit beside her to bluff at
her. Lord knows she never eats gruel.
So how did this lady get stuck in a verse?Who thought to write and preserve it?
Was Muffet subjected to some vile curse?
What had she done to deserve it?
We don’t have any idea, we must say –and neither, it seems, does Miss Muffet –
who tipples Blue Curacao all through the day,
reciting Stendhal to her puppet.