The next doodle shows a partially completed spider's web. Given my brother's hobby, the subject for this poem came very easily. In the interests of full disclosure, I have absolutely no idea whether or not he owns a Harlingen Chocolate Brown or, indeed, if it is ever kept as a pet. There are suspiciously few hits on Google to make me wonder if it has another, more common, name. However the name fit the required metre perfectly so it went in.
My Brother's Hobby
My brother is rather a nice chap;
Intelligent, cultured and smart.
He knows many things about all sorts of things,
But there's one thing that sets him apart.
His home's a conventional dwelling,
With a garden in which he takes pride,
But the thing that you'll find he is proudest about
You'll find when you venture inside.
He's ever so mad about spiders.
So tarantulas fill up his life,
Leaving just enough space round the edge of it all
To make way for two cats and a wife.
The spare bedroom has walls full of shelving.
The shelves hold glass boxes galore.
There are more on the tables and more on the cupboards
And more spread around on the floor.
And in every box there's a spider -
The best he exhibits at shows -
From obscure ones like Harlingen Chocolate Browns
To the commonplace Chilean Rose.
His home's an arachnophobe's nightmare.
Everywhere that you look, you will find
Some kind of creature with too high a leg count,
Driving you out of your mind.
You may wonder what kind of woman
Wouldn't count him among her mistakes
But he and his wife are just perfect together:
Her hobby? That's frogs, toads and snakes.