Bowdoin College - Bugle Yearbook (Brunswick, ME)

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Prologue. Class of Ninety-eight. M Ye prophets, that can see the future clear, - Tell us the lot of these poor mortals here g Their destiny we truly wish to know. Pray, is it Heaven above, or Hell below? Shall this conglomerated, nameless mass, Perforce by gentle courtesy named a class, Where dunce and genius do associate, Stuck fast together by the hand of fate, Where crafty reynards plan their little schemes, And long-eared donkeys dream their dreamy dreams On this conundrum can we e'er agree? Shall '98 be damned or blessed be? September, eighteen ninety-four, has come, Sadly the chapel bell has tolled a doom, W'hen out upon the smiling delta there, The hopeful class of '98 appear. 1- -- 3 strikes! l T too high ! ! ? ! ! ? ! muffed fly! The shouting crowd has left the diamond bare, And Cunner weeps, and Stanwood tears his hair, Base-ball is ever an uncertain play, Fortune has sometimes a provoking way. Hard luck, we lost that foot-ball game, We almost had it. Hell! It was a shame! How long has this been dinning in our ears? Will it continue twenty thousand years? But hush ! Oh, speak this softly, everyone I That score in base-ball was eleven to one ! How gently Teddy Stanwood fanned the air! How nobly Teddy Stanwood then did swear! How prettily the whizzing grounders flew ! How quickly did the atmosphere grow blue I We did! We swat 'em! We beat ,99! We'll boast about it till the end of time ! 24

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Indeed they will, whenever they are sore They'll resurrect that ancient foot-ball score. Prize squads, home concerts, turkey supper, all These things indeed 'tis needless to recall. We'l1 always be reminded of the first, The second never happened, nor the last g For, sad to tell, they made such long delay The poor old turkeys had become pass? ! Now listen I We must surely not neglect The short description, which you all expect, Of some of '98's high muck-a-mucks, Her rarest, most extraordinary ducks. And first, there's Laycock, of the saintly mind, Oh Lord, such man as he you'll rarely ind ! His history course is, oh, such sport to him ! The dear 'K perfesser is so good to him! Psychology's the course he most doth love, It teaches him to watch his wheels revolve. Though Prexy maybe holds the chair of state, He's not ex-president of '98 ! Behold how Hills and Gardner babbling come, Like brothers, Tweedledee and Tweedledum. And Gardner laughs,- Ho, Ho, and Hills, Hee Hee And each is happy as a Chimpanzee. Oh, what is that poor helpless, grinning thing, As Weak and wobbly as a piece of string? Why that is Jakie Loring, to be sure ! . At first it seemed a monkey, nothing more. Now '98 has many other men Quite worth two scratches from an idle pen. For instance, Baxter, of the jail-bird kind, And Pett, the owner of a Hebrew's mind 3 Bill Spear, knight-errant of the turtle-dove, And Ives, who likewise tilts in lists of love 3 And lastly Hutch, the placid, dreamy Hutch, Who knows nor sight, nor sound, nor smell, nor touch Nor yet has I-Ieaven's bliss or Hell's own fire Awaked to ecstacy that lazy lubber. For four long years this class has blundered on, And sometimes we have wished 'twere still unborn Yet each of us within his secret heart Is truly sorry that we soon must part. So let us say to them a last farewell, May '98 live long and prosper Well. And take the friendly hand of '99 In token of the happy Auld Lang Syne. 25