When everything is so forlorn.
It wakes me from a gentle sleep,
And makes me from my pillow leap,
To dress in haste, and hotly tear
To reach in time the morning prayer.
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(Soliloquizing.)Yes, 't is a horrid thing, that wretched bell,
A remnant of the prehistoric age
When Freshmen had to polish up the boots
Of Seniors supercilious and sedate.
I vow that ere another moon shall wane
I'll stop the dismal clanging of that bell.
For who would prayers attend (when he might sleep),
To stand and shiver in the chapel chill,
But that the dread of something worse than prayers,
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Action of Columbia on the Challenge of Yale's Freshman Crew.
