There's a long, long worm a-winding upon the roof of my tent, And the morning whistle tells me that it's time I went. There's a cold, cold lake [Lake Simcoe--you bet!] awaiting for me to take my morning dip-- When I return, I'll squash that worm, upon my pillow slip! * * * These lyrics were fun to us, as girls (11-17) because of three contrasts: that between the poignant nostalgia of the tune and subject matter of the parody, especially the resoundingly-sung ending; and that between the sweet, niceness or finickiness (at least, about worms) generally expected of girls (back then) and a Girl Guide's decision to despatch the unwelcome worm (a decision only held up by the whistle's summons to the morning dip, and maybe chores and breakfast); and that between (again) supposed delicacy of girls versus annihilating the offending worm ON ONE'S PILLOW SLIP (where one lays one's head, yuck!). (On the other hand, by the time the Guide got through opening ceremonies, breakfast, chores, and dip--she could probably count on any worm having taken its sunbathing to a more hospitable environment!)