Respectfully dedicated by a Freshman to The Sophs.
Sing of them with sorrow, sir.
With they have to borrow, sir,
Rusticate to-morrow, sir
Work it as they may.
Their heads are wanting sense, sir.
Their pockets wanting pence, sir,
Their character defence, sir,
Work it, &c.
They consider only good, sir,
Poor rum and stolen wood, sir,
And cheating if they could, sir,
Work it, &c.
“We think it is no sin,” sir,
To hold the Soph’mores in, sir,
Or to kick their shins, sir,
“To drive dull care away.”
We deem it quite a treat, sir.
To paint the Soph’mores seats, sir,
In that we can’t be beat, sir,
Work it, &c.
They have to “walk the plank,” sir,
When they insult our ranks, sir,
Not feeling very crank, sir,
Work it, &c.
We would not them expose, sir,
Or make it any worse, sir,
“But rather the reverse,” sir,
Be it as it may.
From the rare collections, probably more than 100 years old, be it as it may.
