Sometimes she’d say (with genteel dismay),
“Mah name’s not ‘Muffet’, it’s Moo-feyh!”
Hearing her grumble,
I’d always mumble,
“Yes, it sounds just like ‘buffet’”

Her critics had called her dastardly;
From spiders like me she was supposed to flee.
But I disagree,
It’s simple you see.
Get off her fat arse? Not she.

There once was a girl as wide as a tree,
Whose curds and whey made her no less hungry
‘Twas a mistake, one day,
I had wanted to play;
Now I spend my remaining life in her belly.

Note: This was written a very long time back. Don’t get to writing poetry much these days so I’ll be posting works that I’ve dug up from my old folders, publishing them with the “old.stuff” tag