My apologies to Mother Goose.
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
eating her curds and whey.
Along came a spider who sat down beside her,
and frightened Miss Muffet away.
Miss Muffet came back, with a big burlap sack,
shapeless and ragged and brown.
She started to sneak, and before it could squeak,
stuffed the spider inside with a frown.
As she stomped on the bag, her face started to sag,
as she realized the results of her fury.
Murder most foul, the public would howl,
and conviction by judge and by jury.
She snuck into her house, as soft as a mouse,
dragging the sack behind her.
Under the carpet she loved, she roughly shoved
the bag (complete with the spider).
She was cooking her dinner when something within her
made her sit down with a start.
The pasta au gratin lay burning, forgotten,
as the guilt grew and grew in her heart.
She went and got dressed, and promptly confessed
to Little Boy Blue down the lane.
Although he was shocked, his emotions all rocked,
sympathy to her he did feign.
They went for a stroll to see Old King Cole,
and find out what he would say.
That jolly old stinker threw her in the clinker,
and there still she spends all her days.
