The worms, the worms, the wriggly worms,
They keep on eating earth,
And always in the grossest terms
Complain about their birth;
They have no eyes, they have no eyes,
They cannot read a book;
I wonder if they realise
What dreadful things they look.
The trowel cuts them quite in half,
It is a bitter cup;
They give a sour sardonic laugh
And sew the pieces up;
They sew them up and wind away
With seeming unconcern,
But oh, be careful! one fine day
I hear the worm will turn.
And though I don't know what it means,
I know what reptiles are;
They love to make unpleasant scenes
When people go too far;
However calm he seems to be
When only cut in two,
If you go cutting him in three
I don't know _what_ he'd do!