Song Database

Porridge Tradgedy

(to the tune of Clementine) 

In a camp down in the country 
Dwelt some Guides on holiday. 
23 there were in number 
Quite enough to take away. 

In the camp, there was a Girl Guide 
Who was like most little girls. 
She was either up to mischief 
Or was kicking up a noise. 

Rose she early every morning 
At precisely half past four, 
Then she's go out and shout her war cries 
Far too near the Guider's door. 

Then the Guider, then the Guider, 
Soon began to jump and roar. 
Just because that silly Girl Guide 
Wouldn't let her be and snore. 

So she made the early riser 
Take the porridge spoon and stir 
First explaining how to do it 
Lest an accident occur. 

Then the Girl Guide, very anxious 
Thought the porridge she could smell. 
Put her head into the dixie, 
Lost her balance, in she fell. 

Saw her head above the porridge 
She was looking mighty red. 
How she wished that she'd kept silent, 
And kept to her little bed. 

When the Guides went down for breakfast, 
There were only 22. 
Though the Guider called it porridge 
They all thought that it was stew. 

All you Girl Guides, old and youthful, 
Bear in mind this story sad. 
Never spoil your Guider's slumber. 
Lest your fate should be as bad.