Poor creature, I must say,
'Twas not your time
So for your too-early death
I shall weave you a rhyme

Though not only for you,
But for your cousins as well,
For they were strong and young
Too early, they fell.

From such a small age,
Such hardships you face
But you take it in stride,
Life's not a race.

For leafy damp havens
Are what you dream of,
Until death comes, sudden,
From high up above.

It's tragic for your killer
Just as it is for you,
Because your sticky grey bodies,
Are now all over their shoe.

So here's to speed,
Without it you pay the toll,
For it would save many
Of your poor snaily souls