Thirty-legged thing crawling on walls, Scuttling on ceilings, Stalking in halls. It scampers in shadows, crouches in corners. There's movement behind you, It crept on your shoulders. Though one is dead, its legs keep on twitching. I smash it again. Now its innards are bitching. Thirty-legged thing with black fangs and black eyes Knows when you see it. So it's gone when you try To crush it, squeeze it, cut it in halves. Trust me, my friend, It'll have the last laugh When you're sleeping one morning and turn to the right, Open your eyes and it tickles your mouth. Gives you a fright. You bash it to bits And what do you find? You've bashed in your lips.