(With no apologies, even to the shade of W. S. Gilbert.)
I.
On a tree by a Brook-let a little tom-tit Did bellow, and bellow, and bellow,
And I said to him, "lbis-bird, why do you sit.
As a mellow, good fellow, so yellow?"
"Is it weakness of intellect, birdie " I cried,
"Or a graduate worm in your little inside?"
With a shake of his poor little head, he replied.
"I'm going to hell-oh, to hell-oh!"
"Dear Birdie, why left you your bed At this untimely hour,
When happy daylight all is dead, And dark some dangers lower?
See, the sky has lit her lamp, The midnight hour is past,
The chilly air of night is damp, And dews are falling fast!
Dear birdie, why left you your bed When inspiration's dead?"
"I'll give you," said the bird, "Our raison d'etre:
Read more in News
COLLEGE MEN AND SOCIALISM
