The Spider And The Fly – by Mary Howitt (1799-1888)

Will you walk into my parlour?” said the Spider to the Fly,~ 'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;~ The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,~ And I've a many curious things to shew when you are there."~ Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain,~ For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."
"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;~ Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly.~ "There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,~ And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!"~ Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said,~ They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"
Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, "Dear friend what can I do, ~ To prove the warm affection I 've always felt for you? ~ I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice; ~ I'm sure you're very welcome -- will you please to take a slice?" ~ "Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind Sir, that cannot be, ~ I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"
"Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise, ~ How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes! ~ I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf, ~ If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."~ "I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you 're pleased to say, ~ And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."
The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,~ For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:~ So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly, ~ And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly. ~ Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing, ~ "Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing; ~ Your robes are green and purple -- there's a crest upon your head; ~ Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"
Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,~ Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;~ With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,~ Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue --~ Thinking only of her crested head -- poor foolish thing! At last,~ Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.~ He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,~ Within his little parlour -- but she ne'er came out again!~ And now dear little children, who may this story read,~ To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:~ Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,~ And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.