The retreat of Rudenstine has all the trappings of a literary tragedy. The noble leader, beset by troubles on all sides, takes his charge too close to heart and (nearly, in this case) hastens his own demise. What better way could Dartboard bemoan this doleful turn of events than to call on its dearly departed bard to contribute a soul-stirring bit of poesy:

Alas, our valiant Rudenstine

tried to draw a strong, firm line

against professors pension claims

growing fatter all the time,

but the faculty exclaims

"with our goodies, play no games!"

defending privilege dearly won,

though on "fairness" they declaim.

and say they study just for fun,

while the Press they crucially dun

for their ostrich-sized "nest eggs."

Meanwhile Rudy wants to run

far away, but finds his legs

grasped by those scholastic dregs

whom no gen'rous offer sales

"Try to understand," he begs

"Harvard's in financial straits.

Wealthy donors' whole estates

Can't pay for what you proofs demand."

The angry faculty berates

Rudy's parsimonious stand.

Their speeches in their length expand,

the clangor of the crudity

grows louder than the Harvard Band

The presidential head is light,

his lace a pale and sickly sight

he strains to keep his frame upright

and though he tries no more can fight.

The president must take a leave

to ease his managerial pain:

professors show remorse and grieve:

"Alas, we've slowed the campaign!"

With Rudy collapsed in the gutter

Harvard's ship-of-state goes without rudder

rent asunder by tensions

with professors whose pensions

are sucking dry Ma Harvard's udder.

The Clash once sang "Rudy Can't fail"

But our Rudy grew weak and pale

Wonder why he collapsed

And requires months of naps?

In a week ask your pal Carnesale!