380101sb 1901 00032a

The senior mob so bold
The crowded doorway arched.
Their line, a bubble, burst,
And five to one the classmen fought.
With ardent haste a truce was sought
By Juniors sore and weary.


The Seniors on a wintry day
Decided they would feed,
So to a bakery hied away
To find grub for their need.

They settled soon on toothsome pies
As fitting food for brains,
And each girl took a luscious prize
To guard it at all pains.

Unto the Chapel they did wend
Matters of state to talk
And on them Satan did descend
And tried their plans to balk.

Preps, Sophs and Juniors bold
With Freshies gathered round,
Nielson arose, his tale he told,
In a voice of uncertain sound.

Then Chase got up in all his might
And started to say,
"I am President," but a fight
Seemed certain as the day,

Of which they were not very fond,
So sneaked without the room
And shot Hot Air out, a la Pound
And threatened direst doom.

The Seniors mosied to a room
And battled with the pie
McMaster's stock took such a boom
As an eater, 'twas feared he'd die.


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