Three Poems about Hank the Spider
1. Hank The Sequel Hank's leaving Over crowded he says Word got out We're a soft touch That was it They were queuing at the door Enough's enough I told Hank He agreed But said he was leaving anyway Because he knows how persistent Some spiders can be And, he said, he had a bad feeling about all this We put up a sign SPIDERS NOT WELCOME They took no notice Pretended they couldn't read You see, said Hank Look at that one Clearly an academic Probably letters after his name Show him the DDT Bet he'll bloody well read then Anyway, Hank's gone now We said our goodbyes Then doused the house with DDT Laid both cats up for a while Dog's got alopecia But the spiders have gone One tried to sneak back Said he was a friend of Hank's And that he played the trumpet Who was he kidding I know a trumpet player When I see one. 2. News from Hank Have received disturbing letter From Hank As follows: Dear all, Misfortune has struck Terrible blow. Fell asleep on container lorry Now in Hamburg German spiders not friendly to Brits I fear racism is rife here. Have tried to blend in But not easy to march with eight legs Met a Frenchy on the Reeperbahn Helps out in transvestite bar Only safe place he says Whores and spiders They don't care If you march or scuttle Sooner or later the degradation has you Dragging yourself around On your knees Tough for a spider I shouldn't end like this Have tried to leave But German lorry drivers are hot on stowaways I've pointed out, I'm only a spider They just snort Spiders, Albanians All got the same sorry story Bottom line The Euro is the Euro to Germans Please send fare If not, send cyanide tablet They'll get me soon Here, they have no apathy towards foreigners I fear I'd crack under pressure Or Jack boots Love Hank We've sent the fare of course. 3. Hank's Return Hank's back Arrived in the early hours Crawled up drainpipe So as not to wake anyone And fell asleep in the bath He's a pitiful sight One leg completely gone Kids didn't recognise him Thought he was that would be Charlie Parker Nearly drowned him I let him sleep, two days And asked no questions But I knew he'd need to talk Sooner or later The Germans nearly finished me he said Such a harsh race Still punishing themselves behind closed doors Mass self-flagellation, sauerkraut and wurst diet If I never smell Liebfraumilch again It won't be too soon Spent hours on the docks Looking for escape route But they know all the tricks God knows they've run a few secure units Anyway, sweet wine and melancholy got me Met an old hooker one night, Lili Seen better days Legs a bit ropey Eyesight dodgy But seemed a good enough sort One thing led to another We ended up in her rusty beer can Two sad, lonely spiders Well you know how these things go God knows I needed some comfort Fell asleep about three am Woke up with terrible stabbing pain The bitch was trying to eat me One leg gone quicker that a fly eats shit It was a battle I can tell you Only saved by the widget Sprang back and decapitated her. I left Hank to sleep But the next day, I had to ask Isn't it common practise, this eat your lover bit? Sure, he said For love Many a good spider has gone that way But Lili was just an old slapper Hanging around the docks Looking for a free meal From desperate foreigners Where's the love in that? What dignity in such a death? Hank has gone back to his hole Behind the toilet Said he needed a couple of days to think That was two weeks ago What can you do for a traumatised spider?
Nicolette Turner
If you've any comments on this poem, Nicolette Turner would be pleased to hear from you.