Will you walk into my parlour, said a Spider to a Fly;
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy.
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I have many pretty things to show when you get there.
Oh, no, no! said the little Fly; to ask me is in vain:
For who goes up that winding stair shall never come down
Again
---------------------------------------
"Well, look who I ran into,"
crowed Coincidence.
"Please," flirted Fate, "this
was meant to be."