1 - December 1902 Vo1.1 No.2

3.

Ode to a Cane

One night - I think twas Hallowe'en - As Satan went a-walking, He heard a noise which did, I ween, Sound much like students' talking; And, being rather curious, he At once must know the reason, So down he went to Huron C--. Arrriving just in season.

There, closely grouped in one small room, Were students of all ages; Some like the blushing rose in bloom, One like its "fading stages*." Some stood around while others sat On bed or trunk or chair, But everyone indulged in chat, Forgetful of his care.

*The reference is to W. Powell who seemed to be ill.

Now whether Satan went among Those lads, I cannot say But soon the halls and stairways rung With sounds both wild and gay; The goddess, Sleep, was terrified And, losing all her grace, Declared she never would abide In such an evil place.

But that's enough, no more I'll tell Of what occured that night, But give me, Muse, the power to dwell On yet another sight. 'Tis of the lads - once more alone - That are from Satan free Though still no less to chatting prove, No less to mirth and glee.

5

All, gathered in the room again, Were passing something round 'Twas nothing other than a cane Which they somewhere had found But what a noble piece of tree! How massive in it's mould! And just the size, it seems to me, For Hercules to hold.

'Tis dark in hue, in length 'tis long, In grain both firm and rough A cap of brass, to make it strong Was on it tight enough The handle end, of yellow hue Is polished till it shines And crooked 's the bone that Samson threw To kill the Philistines.

6

That cane was passed from hand to hand (And very gently too) And then was laid upon the stand To constant be in view. For never has so fine a thing So pleasant to the eye, Been captured from the "western wing" And that, too, on the sly.

And now, O muse, farewell to thee, Most gracious thou hast been, But pleased I am thou didst not see Thy bard on Hallowe'en!

A youthful arts student named Grass was trying the football to pass, Being rather too strong, His shot was too long, And it cost him a quarter for glass.

"Won't you grin a little louder" said the Sophs. to Gilbert Bice; "We are feeling very doleful and your smile would be so nice." He answered I am sorry that my custom I must shirk; But my smile is taking 'Rest-Cure' on account of Over-Work."

There are two brothers, H. and M. Shore, who have been here for six weeks or more. They both seem so shy I think they would fly If Professor said, "Stand on the floor."

A blushing young student we know Went hopping along on one toe; His hirsute appendage (In case it might lend age) He shaved, but has since let it grow. Oh!