A spider and a Centipede went out to take a walk;
The centipede said frankly, 'I will listen while you talk,
But I may appear distracted, or assume
A vacant stare,
Because to keep my feet in step requires
my constant care.'

Said the Spider; 'I appreciate your 
Most peculiar case,
And your feet must be quite handy
when you want to run a race;
But through you gain in some ways,
In some other ways you lose;
And, of course, my friend, you must
Be quite extravagant i n shoes.'

'Ah! yes. Ah! yes,' a heavy sigh escaped the centipede;
'And I have other trials, too−my life is hard indeed!
Why, sometimes when I 'm very tired, a long, long time it takes
To ascertain with certainly which foot it is that aches.

'And when I go to dancing-class on Saturdays at three,
I find the First Possition* very difficult for me.
Through I put my best foot foremost, and good time I try to keep,
To my chagrin, I often find a foot  or two asleep.

Athletics I attempted, but alas! I must admit
That every exercise I tried I put my foot in it.
I think I'll join a foot-ball team,−as many friends suggest,−
Before I've one foot in the grave and gout in all the rest.

But now I'll say good morning; for, my friend,
I have to stop
To get my boots blacked neatly at this little
Boot-black's shop;
And, as you may imagine, it will keep me
here some time,
But, what is worse, I'll have to pay him
many a hard-earned dime.'

The Spider said good-morning, and
pursued his way alone.
And as he went he murmured, in a 
thoughtful undertone:
'I'm a happy little Spider, and I'm very glad
indeed,
That I was born an octoped and not a centipede!'

−Carolyn Wells