The Worm Will Turn

I'm a gentle, meek, and patient human worm;                      Unattractive,                      Rather active,      With a sense of right, original but firm.                  I was taught to be forgiving,                     For my enemies to pray;                  But what's the use of living                     If you never can repay      All the little animosities that in your bosom burn -      Oh, it's pleasant to remember that "the worm will turn."      I'm so gentle and so patient and so meek,                      Unpretending,                      Unoffending.      But if, perchance, you smite me on the cheek,                  I will never turn the other,                     As I was taught to do                  By a puritanic mother,                     Whose theology was blue.      Your experience will widen when explicitly you learn      How a modest, mild, submissive little worm will turn.      I'm so subtle and so crafty and so sly.                      I am humble,                      But I "tumble"      To the slightest oscillation of the eye.                  When others think they're winning                     A fabulous amount,                  Then I do a little sinning                     On my personal account,      And in my quiet, simple way a modest stipend earn      As they slowly grasp the bitter fact that worms will turn.      Oh, human worms are curious little things;                      Inoffensive,                      Rather pensive      Till it comes to using little human stings.                  Oh, then avoid intrusion                     If you would be discreet,                  And cultivate seclusion                     In an underground retreat.      And whenever you are tempted the lowly worm to spurn,      Just bear in mind that little line, "The worm will turn."