Little miss muffet,
Frozen in habit
Alone on your throne
Like a lost little rabbit
Your coat is unruffled
Your hair is pristine
Your mother thinks that I
Am something unclean
Stroking your lips with
Honey nectar, I see
Smiling, you’ll call me
And say I am ‘Thief’
This spider, this spider
He held you too close
Run, run Miss Muffet
Tell them your woes.
Showing posts with label Little Miss Muffet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Little Miss Muffet. Show all posts
Sunday, 21 September 2008
Little Miss Muffet
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Little Miss Muffet
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