Milwaukee School of Engineering - EMF Yearbook (Milwaukee, WI)

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Paqe One Hundred Eleven

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 (C w,w— 'jr ii u p §f a ===s4% THE 1920 ERW ..—- wr—£ THE AMERICAN ASSOCIATION EOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF BOLSHEVISM It is not widely known that within the massive portals of onr institution, There is an organization, Called the American Association, For the Advancement of Bolshevism. The term is called VI-B It was so named by Bovee, The number of its members is 2x3 And its Bolshevik character is indicated by the designation VI-B, B for Bolshevik, VI for 2x3. The Big Chief Bolshevik is Hough, (Be careful how you say it, it must rhyme with tough) • His biggest qualification, Is dispensing information In fluent conversation, About the organization. Our Chief Foreign interlocutor Is the mustache connoisseur Allejandro Bert. The Black Sheep Crook of the Bolshevik, Carouses around seven days a week. And he drinks black coffee, And often spends a jitney, ' 4 To take out a nifty, Irish Vampire. (Shh, the crook is Albert.) Hover, the Chief Discoverer of Grievances, Complains about the inefficiencies, Which lead to long conversations And to resolutions, And demonstrations. Thccl is the Big Husky Guy, Who don’t raise his voice on high, So we can’t say much. A few words is enough. The Chief of the Department of Propaganda, Is the author of this stanza, Looking at it through his glasses sharply. He Bolshcvically ventures to call it poetry. Page One Hundred Ten

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fp5 5Uf I' w: 'TME 1920. THE SONG MEDLEY FOR ALL GOOD LOVERS OF SONG AND MUSIC Do-Re-Me-Fa-So-La-Ti-Do-Do-Ti-La-So-Fa-Mc-Rc-Do. I’ve got the blii-u-u-u-ues. I’ve got the amputating blues, no more Upidee-idee-ida, upi- dee-upida (repeat), R-r-r-r-r-r-r-yah, yah, yah? There’s a land where we won’t shovel snow, there’s a land where the watermelons grow. Where? Way down yonder in the corn fields. In the evening by the moonlight, I was singing. ‘Down by the old mill stream, Where I saw,’ the Miller’s big dog lay on the barn floor and Bingo was his name, B-i-n-g-o, (Repeat twice) and Bingo was his name. B-i-n-g-o du lieber Augustine, Augustine, Augus- tine, Ach du lieber Augustine. Alles ist bin. Forsaken, Forsaken, Forsaken as 1, Until we meet again. M v baby, when you hear the bells go ding-o-ling, we’ll all join hands and sweetly we will sing: Hcil dir im Siegcskranz Kartoffel und Heringschwanz, of thee I sing. Elsie from Chelsic, there is nobody else but oh? Who will wear my cast-off boots, cast-off boots, cast-off boots, (Repeat twice) when I am far away? Alice Boran, Johnny Moran. Mary Macan, Yucatan, Kalamazoo. Michigan, tin can, bad man, old man. How you going to keep ’em down on the farm after they’ve seen Billy Mc- Gee, and do you believe my Phillis dear, old Mike with all his wealth, can make you half so happy as I with youth and health. But on the sea we’ve other heroes too, On the sea our good old boys in blue, sim-sale-dim-sale-du- salc-Du, du, liegst mir im Herzen, du, du, liegst Drunten im Unterland, da ist’s halt fein. My baby had a whopping cough, sings pollywaddle, doodle all day, she sneezed her head and feet right off, sings pollywaddle, doodle all day. Farewell, farewell, farewell my fairy fay. I am off for Louisiana, singing pollywaddle, doodle all day. There’s a bull dog in the yard, and a tom-cat on the roof (repeat twice). Says the bull dog to the tom-cat; Doris, Doris, oh! how I love you, sec me at your feet, Doris Doris, zu lauterbach hab ich mein Strumpf vcrlorcn, Oh where, oh where can it be? Down in the corn- field, hear that mournful sound, All the darkies am a weeping, Massa’s in the cold, cold ground. I am forever blowing bubbles pretty bubbles—Over there, over there, over where, sent a word, oh! that my fame has spread over the ocean and the folks come a flocking to see, and they cried out without hesita- tion: You’re a fighting man Billy McGee! I’ve licked all the Finnigan fac- tions and I knocked all the Majors afloat, if You’re in for a row or a reaction, just tread on the tail of me —coat, mush, mush, Z-Z-Z-, Tri-e-e-la-dee, a la- dee, a la-dee. If you’re in for a row or a reaction, just tread on the Trail of the Lonesome Pine. Oh say can you sec, by the dawn’s early in the morning and so at noon a pretty little girlie comes and feeds me with the spoon. Does she, I say she do? It surely is great: When you wake up in the morning where the Morning-glories grow, And the sun is shining through the window JAM Page One Hundred Twelve