"The Spider in the Bath" by Donald Swann and Michael Flanders (an English '50s comedy duo)

I have fought a grizzly bear, tracked cobra to its lair,
Killed a crocodile who dared to cross my path,
But the thing I really dread when I've just got out of bed
Is to find that there's a spider in the bath.

I've no fear of wasps or bees,
Mosquitoes only tease,
I rather like a cricket on the hearth,
But my blood runs cold to meet in pyjamas and bare feet,
With a great big hairy spider in the bath.

I have faced a charging bull in Barcelona,
I have dragged a mountain lioness from her cubs,
I've restored a mad gorilla to its owner,
But I don't dare face that tub.

What a frightful looking beast,
Half an inch across at least,
It would frighten even Superman or Goth.
There's contempt it can't disguise,
In the little beady eyes
Of the spider sitting glowering in the bath.

It ignores my every lunge with the backbrush and the sponge,
I have bombed it with a present from Penarth.
It just rolls into a ball, doesn't seem to mind at all,
And simply goes on squatting in the bath.

For hours we have been locked in endless struggle,
I have lured it to the deep end by the drain.
At last I think I've washed it down the plughole,
But here it comes a-crawling up the chain!

Now it's time for me to shave, though my nerves will not behave,
And there's bound to be a fearful aftermath.
So before I cut my throat, I shall leave this final note:
"Driven to it by the spider in the bath."