Away in a dungeon, under the castle,
Spin and sew, weave and toil,
The spider’s silk is all I need,
To make clothes for the royal.

Deep below the daylight’s rays,
Kept under lock, kept under key,
A spider’s friendship’s all I have,
While I make your clothes for thee.

But beware my feisty wrath,
From being locked away,
For though you think I am locked tight,
I escaped just yesterday.

So watch out king, duke, and prince!
I’ll creep in in the night!
Knife in hand, I’ll get to you.
And give you such a fright!

You see this cloth that I’m spinning now?
It’s light as a feather, soft as a cloud.
And if you don’t watch out, my king,
It shall become your burial shroud!