A Bachanalian Ode.
Here's to the Freshman of bashful eighteen!
Here's to the Senior of twenty!
Here's to the youth whose moustache can't be seen!
And here's to the man who has plenty!
Let the men Pass!
Out of the mass
I'll warrant we'll find you some fit for a Class!
Here's to the Censors, who symbolise Sense,
Just as Mitres incorporate Might, Sir!
To the Bursar, who never expands the expense!
And the Readers, who always do right, Sir!
Tutor and Don,
Let them jog on!
I warrant they'll rival the centuries gone!
Here's to the Chapter, melodious crew!
Whose harmony surely intends well:
For, though it commences with 'harm,' it is true,
Yet its motto is 'All's well that ends well'!
'Tis love, I'll be bound,
That makes it go round!
For 'In for a penny is in for a pound'!
Here's to the Governing Body, whose Art
(For they're Masters of Arts to a man, Sir!)
Seeks to beautify Christ Church in every part,
Though the method seems hardly to answer!
With three T's it is graced—
Which letters are placed
To stand for the names of Tact, Talent, and Taste!