He oozed into the room with a sibilant sigh,
scraping up cobwebs as he slithered by.
The risks of survival for this little guy
I must admit would not be very high.
He’d end up on a spit or perhaps in a pie
if it weren’t for one factor, and I’ll tell you why.
This is where all of his courage must lie:
for if he embedded his fangs in your thigh,
you would have to act quickly or else you might die.
That’s why he is joyous though just an inch high,
and why he soars by with a gleam in his eye.