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Page 11 text:
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EMKflSfeaM WANDERING BY THE HIDEAWAY (continued): With us too was an Editour, That at yellow journalism cried, Namor! About late articles would she compleyne So that her wryters viewed her with desteyne; Her printing shop she moved to Old Wistere, For by this shift now noone can interfere With even one deleetynge act Which leaves ne ' er a storye intact. Ther was a good ruler, Quene Chris men did her calle, And her careful rule extended over alle; Some rejoyced and otheres yet were sadde For our first quene whom no man hadde: Of manly candidates ther was nolack, But she to marriage offers turned her back. Alone, this wondrous bureaucracy she oversees; Though little is done, ther are a hundred committees. With us ther was a Wif of Barfe, Wei drest in her scarlet gowne and scarfe. This worthy wif koude rooste, broille and frye, Maken a soup, and she wel baked a pye; These meals were sometymes nourissyng, And potent enow to poison a king! Muche to her credit, no morsel went to waste, Even if this meant a scarifyce to taste. Whilst then assembled in this compaignye In Caf De La Salle I turned to see A man whose mind and manner I deemed wys; These traits were exceded onlye by his size. Bolde of hys speche, proude and wel taught, Hys words flowed unimpeeded by a thought; This seemly man, the Hooste of the halle Was dressed in black to answer his calle. His words showed he coude be a right merie man, But here he was not, as his speche bigan: Gentil folk, to Hideaway ye speede, Anon to partake of blisful meade! And wel I woude, as ye goon by the weye, Suggest ye eech could tel a tale to pleye A game in which one at my juggement Would win, if ye alle give assent. With these fair wordes oure hooste his plan had sown, And yet it left the pilgrims doumbe as stone; So now for fear the game would fail, Oure hooste continued, Bread and ale, Ful meal to him who wins the game, At Caf De La Salle, in Goddes name! At once I knew oure hooste ' s mistake: Proud Pat had thought he would partake Of meals prepared by his goode maides; But we would sooner dwell in Hades Than trust the Wif of Barfe to fix For one ' s good tale a deadly mix. The pilgrims, who had sitten ther lyke stones Did now emit a verie floode of groans. The first to speke was good Quene Chris: My Food Committee shall study this! The Editour said about the dishes, Headlines shall read, ' The Tale Pat Punishes. ' Wys Doctor Merlin, lyke to Aristotle, Put reason o ' er appetite, saying, Let ' s get a bottle. The lerned Cook in tone rebellious spoke: lago ' s here, in mannes subtle cloak! Amidst the loud confusion and discord An Emerysary appreared from the lord Of the tavern with the moste savorie ale, To which, in comparision, all others did pale. Dear lords and ladies, the messandere said, My master Jack bids all, ' Drink and be fed; ' So let us now, everyone, to Hideaway ryde; To this sacred spot I shall act as your gyde. Our journey was short, the Knyghtes led the way; Upon finding the inn, in fact, they did stay. The pitiful plan of Proud Pat was forgotten, Replaced by the good will of angels and men. Not a hard word was spoken as in the uproar, All anger passed. Instead men did pour Delicious brews in search of true felicitee, And found solutions that the sober cannot see. To one and all did good Sir Daniels round, Leaving all more cheerful than he had them found. Suche was the journey of these worthy pilgrims, Whose cups were by grace ful to the brims; This author did gladly join in the cheere, But of more import was the cause of oure fear — Pat ' s evil plague, that sent us from Caf De La Salle May you ne ' er partake of. Goddes save us one and alle! Qwj — Thomas Rodden
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Page 10 text:
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WANDERING BY THE HIDEAWAY Photo: View of New College from Hertford College bridge window. Photo taken by Rich Geruson in England j m • r-, . ' ' Eech sweete May, after fiials passe And pupils ende thyre laste classe Whenne pages in thyre booBeWurrte And typewryters cease plickinge f One ful seson and a dayel j+l ' : • Of which now for workelrecefle we paie, Thenne our masters, whojire sjtphe sages, Longen to goon on pilgrimai i» Befel that in that seson on a day • In Cat De La Salle as I lay Redy to goon on my pilgrimage To Hideaway with ful devout courage, Whenne I, with a compaignye of sondry fole yfalle Into felaweshipe, and pilgrims were we alle. Knyghtes ther were, and eech a worthy man, That fro the tyme La Salle first bigan, They would riden out to defend ones lyke me, In the Quad, the dorms, in Wister and Olneye: And in thyre smalish cars they would flee Attacke, so did they love securitie. A Cook ther was, a man whose wit and wisdom, Whose lerned tales were knoon in alle Cristendom. r M. At times. this wyse cook would speake of Shakespeare Amongst his scolers to teche them fear; But this only drove them from his bitter brew, And fro thyre schedules thenne they would hym hewe. And soe this cook would techen alle the day But alas! folk could clearlye see hys feet of claye. ' i With hym was Sir GTedy — about monie, noone knew more, But above all this world he cherisheti honour. In lectures, he spoke oft of Adam but ne ' er of Eve, Yet hys words, lyke spelles, made one too weak to leave. To his felawes and folowers he was a cog In operatioun of the lerned halles, despite his constant fog; Perhaps thys condicioun was paused by the dismal science In which he engaged, from honour and monie — an unholy alliance. I ■ I A Philosophour was, who teches in oure College, And from hys ancient bookes, he gives us unknowne knowledge; But of what sorte is knowledge that is not economics, History, or English? It is worthy metaphysiks! Such master of hys sacred subject is oure Dr. Merlin, That he can prove one day ther is, the next, ther is no heaven. By Socratick methods, he showes we knowe alle lore, Still, it seems thys wisdom does not keep us from failure.
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