I cross the entrance of a cave
The boss and his dwelling I cave

In blinding passion my arms a wave
A sort of fashion as windmills wave

Eight legs and two sharp fangs
A single thread it hangs

He drops five feet onto my head
Up pops two teeth and they now head

Straight under my skin and I'm in the red
Late thunder cracks and now I'm seeing red

Distant swirls and bangs
For now I'm free of pangs