Will there be time for eggnogs and eclogues In the place where we’re going?
Said the spider to the fly. I think not, said the fly. I think not, sang the chorus. I think not, said a stranger Who mysteriously happened by.
Will they beat me and treat me the way they did here,
In the place where we’re going?
Asked the spider of the fly. It is likely, said the fly. Very likely, sang the chorus. Extremely likely, said the stranger, With an eager gleam in his eye.
O, why go there when we know there is nothing there but fear At this place where we’re going?
Said the spider to the fly. What a question! said the fly. What a question! sang the chorus. What a question! said the stranger, Leering slightly at the spider, Winking slyly at the fly.
