A nursery rhyme for the macabre

Little Miss Molly sat on a wally
minding her business as always.
But that was to easy
so God sent a breezy,
knocking her dead to the ground.
And who should find her?
A little black spider,
intent to make her body it's home.
And there she lay rotten
all dead at the bottom
of the wally Miss Molly sat on.