A daddy longlegs is hung in the middle
Of eight legs, all angled and spread,
With never a tailpiece to waggle or wave,
And only a bit of a head.
But he seems quite content in his cradle of legs,
And he steps along with great ease.
Over pebbles and grasses and mud,
He ambles as nice as you please.
His manner of walking’s remarkably good,
He never stubs a thin toe.
Just how he can manage four pairs of legs
Is something I never will know.
For if I had eight legs I’m sure as can be
They’d get tangled and down I would sprawl.
But he never does, he just goes his own way
With no stumbling or tripping at all.