The Spider plant’s a hardy plant,
Neither fussy nor demanding;
He likes it here, he likes it there;
He needs no understanding.

He’ll go for many weeks,
Thirsty and neglected.
His leaves will fade, he will degrade,
But he won’t feel rejected.

For he knows that when she sees him
His pale-green, dying leaves
She will feel bad, she will feel sad,
She’ll rush to meet his needs.

He knows that she will flood him;
Fresh water mixed with bio.
Hell drown in it, bob round in it,
But he will never dio!

She’ll rescue him, recover him,
She’ll snip his dying ends.
She’ll walk with him, she’ll talk to him;
He knows that they are friends.

So, when his leaves are luscious green
And she’s restored him back to health.
She’ll pick him up, she’ll stick him up,
Back upon the shelf.

Yet, the Spider plant, he understands
That’s just the way life is,
There he’ll wait and dehydrate,
Until she notices.