Chorus: feelingly
"Tell the dear family I miss them,
Kiss Myrtle for me, will you, pard?
Have them pray to the Lord up above them
That I sometime get out of the Yard.
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Take Rover a-romping, ride Dobbin.
Be hearty, be happy, be gay,
Think not of me left here sobbin
A Senior I am I must pay."
His room-mate stole out, very sadly, pitying his cruel fate.
Stifling a sob and remembering that he was twenty-eight.
That next spring vacation he'd sorrow, that he too would cry against heaven.
A prisoner of wisdom--ah, thesis! to suffer as twenty-seven!
Arthurian Legend
Paint em, draw one, hold the soup
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Eastward Ho
