There's a spider in my bathtub,

He's hiding but I know he's there,

He often creeps out to watch me,

As I rinse out my hair.

Papa always taught me,

Just leave the bugs alone,

They'll always return the favor,

If you're just willing to share your home.

The first time that I saw him though,

Crawling slowly up the wall,

I screamed and yelped and ran about,

Even though he was so small.

He was still a baby then,

But I knew what I had to do,

But no matter how hard I may have tried,

I didn't have the heart to squish him with my shoe.

Igor was his nickname,

Yes indeed I named the bug,

Somehow I managed to make a pet,

Of the creature that watched my in the tub.

He claimed a corner all his own,

Where he carefully spun his web,

And I made a conscious effort,

Not to get him wet.

Sometimes I'd watch and wonder,

Just what he thought of me,

And asked if perhaps he pondered,

What I might have thought of he.

He crawled up to face me one night,

As I lay half asleep in bed,

He waved one spindly leg at me,

And then dropped over dead.

He got a proper burial,

In my favorite terra cotta pot,

Complete with Popsicle stick headstone,

The world’s first spider burial plot.

Sometimes when I'm in the shower,

I look to his corner and sigh,

Because occasionally I rather miss

Being watched by those beady little eyes.