I'm a wonder, you're a worm,
I am off to Magdalen,
I'll be in my second term
While you're down there dagdalen.
You were born to feed the bird,
I was born to culture;
While I'm earning a decent third,
You'll be a garden multure.
Eton has its playing fields,
Monkseaton has its pasture:
I am what true breeding yields,
This year as with lasture.
Yes, I wriggle. Yes, I squirm.
But I was bred for ruling -
For I'm a nicer, pinker worm
And forked out for my schuling.
