Thirty-legged thing crawling on walls, Scuttling on ceilings, Stomped one in the hall. It shelters in shadows, hides in the corners. There's movement behind you, It's perched on your shoulders. Even 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 And gives you a fright. You bash it to bits Only to find you've bashed in your lips.