A woggle is a device to fasten the neckerchief, or scarf, worn as part of the Scout or Girl Guides uniform, originated by a Tasmanian Scout in the 1920s.
Early Scouts tied a knot in their neckerchief (scarf) to fasten it around the neck. In the United States, experiments were made with rings made from bone, rope or wood.
A young Australian Scout, Bill Shankley, who was responsible for running a workshop and developing ideas for camping equipment at Gilwell Park, became aware of the American rings, and set out to create something similar. The result was the Gilwell Woggle.
On the origin of the Woggle, Shankley said:
The earliest known reference to a Woggle is the June 1923 edition of The Scout. The term was quickly applied to other designs of fastener, of many shapes and sizes, and is today used around the world.
The word ring was used in editions of the Scouting handbook Scouting for Boys until 1929 when Baden-Powell changed it in the 14th edition:
A rope tightens
Breath constricted
No hand pulls this is self-inflicted sickness
Sickness
Self diagnosed without witness
Wish list grip fist
The beggary of riches
A belly full fights never willingly
An empty stomach does not have the energy to finish it
Layers in between
Padded by a dream
Stretching for the means
Without thought of exhausting the seams
No space for indiginity
On the face of simplicity
A taste of sufficiency's
A bellyfull of lethargy
A dash of apathy a pinch of extacy's a recipe
Serving up a feast for the beast of our treachery
Not sure if your getting celebrity's out effigy
I hear just fine
But I'm deaf to those next to me
Conflict it perplexes me
Cause out biggest battle
Is now we're so free that we choose to be shackled
I'm stuck freedom lasso
This invisible strain of the human stain
Colours every brain, vein
Thus chained to another's pain
We may not be the artist by we surely are the fram
We may just be the smoke
But we cannot blame the flame
Strange is the fruit
That nourishes not the vein
Yet we are odder still
For we seek it like the rain
Nothing bounds out path
Yet we march perfect in lane
Whoever saw a tiger that desired to be tamed?
Reality defies
Nature does not know surprise
Yet the lesion of our season blinds even the eagle's eyes
Spies dread not headlock tight as threadknot
Get lost why throw a bone to a dead dog?
This is not charity
That is just sarcasm
That's why we bite so hard and never bark at em
Spark at em's insane
It's play gather and prey
When even the mighty tiger
He desires to be tamed
I'm stuck freedome lasso
They act as if it's positive
Though it's so obviously derogative
And even if you're bobby
This is never your prerogative
It's obvious we're warriors
And crooked just like bobby is
But colleges and mockeries
Will never make a socrates
Apologies and robberies
They follow with atrocity
Sorrow and hypocrisy
Don't make very good crockery
Watchin' this it's horror bliss
And one day I will promise this
The day the tiger wakes