House cleaned, all perfect, webs broken with brooms,
Banished spiders found no stable at the inn, never mind rooms,
So to bide their time, they to dark corners crept,
To pass the time, they tired, and frightened, slept.
But the young desired the decorations to see,
Admonished by the older, that they were not to be,
“But we too are Gods creatures, of His world we are a part…
How can they be Christian if they hate us with such a hard heart?”
Its one of the mysteries of life, said the older spiders with a sigh,
We just have to endure, and ask not as to why,
Butif your good, before the Christ Child is put in His crib, well go to see,
And worship, as the Animals did, on the Birthday of He…
They scrambled round in wonder, up and down the tree they went,
Covered it in cobwebs, till their curiosity was content…
But what would happen when the housewife found the tree?
How upset that destroyed in such a way it she did see?
So, a Christmas miricle… the silk of webs was made…
To shine, as if silver and gold, a spider woven braid…
And so its told, whether or not true, it was told to me…
That on that Christmas morning, tinsel came upon the Tree!!!