I have a tale, But not a tailnLike felius domesticumnnIts of a girl, a real girlnI'm calling by her real namennAnd thus begannA summer camp sonnetnshe saw a boy who would soon be a bee in her teenage bonnetnnNina and her very long hairnHeld a torch that got her nowherenShe hit him with a thunderbolt smilenEvery thing she had she threwnEvery dress and every shoennNina and her very long hairnHeld a torch that got her nowherenAs hard as she triednHe never looked twicenHe never did see the light, and end the plight of NinannSometimes a film, comes over me,nlike a cold cup of teanAnd I forget, what I was setnTo snag and bag, grab and seizennAt seventeennShe was still reelingnShe went to campnwith a comb and a tent and that same old feelingnnChorusnnAnd so she snipped, she cut and she clippednEnough to thatch a cottage roofnAnd once she'd preened, she glowed and she gleamednoff she set to make him swoonnnShe was the girl with very short hair, that got her nowhere