University of California Berkeley - Blue and Gold Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

Page 189 text:

THE BLUE AND GOLD 179 Then spake one Co-ed : You did flinch Or I am most mistaken. Then Ki sir said : I did not ' tis your eyes That do most foul deceive you. (Enter two Sophs.) Still, gentle ladies, I must bid adieu. I recollect me that the train Which bears me home will soon be due, Hence I must slope vamoose. (Exit running, Sophs pursuing.) (The Blue and Gold editors here wind up the poet for the home-stretch.} ' He continues. Dark the night, nor moon nor star Shone in the firmament afar. The wind was hushed, and it sighing made In the blue gum forest as half afraid. A night for owlets to flit and hoot, And the rakish student to go on a toot. What means this mob that is gathered there ? . White, O white, are the robes they wear. Under the transparencies ' flare Torches shine and eyeballs glare. What, O what, then, means it all ? Are they imps from the pit on a sudden call ? And what do they bear in that gre jesome pall ? Bosh ! it ' s Eighty-five ' s burial, that ' s all. Armed to the teeth, that desperate band, A knuckle duster in each hand, A six-pound cannon loaded clear With Berkeley buns a thing to fear. Pistol in belt and dirk in sleeve, And a razor hid in every greave. Bold and brash they did outward seem, But each in his soul of souls did deem That he would then be happier far If safe at home with dear mamma. For spite of pistol, spite of club, The Sophs might tackle them there was the rub. With outward calm but quaking heart, Each one prepared to do his part.

Page 188 text:

178 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA (Draws small toistol.) Behold I have for weeks Been practicing. First with a cap Alone, to gradually steel my nerves To greater things ; then with A cartridge blank I dared; At last I can Without a wink or start Fire off the whole six barrels. Just you see. (Fires pistol. Co-eds squeal and cover their ears.)

Page 190 text:

180 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Blue lights, red lights, rockets ' glare, Berkeley vags and natives stare, Catcalls, howls, and trumpets blare. Citizens wishing to rest in sleep Mutter some prayers loud and deep. But half the straggling march is done ; Where are the Sophs? Shall there be no fun 1 Hark ! Those awful yells and hoots ! Freshie ' s heart retires to his boots. . Full on the pall-bearers rush the host ; Brace up, Freshies, or your coffin ' s lost ! Brace up, Freshies, or your coffin ' s lost! Each gallant Freshman shuts his eyes, And with both hands his war-club plies. On the Finnigan ' s wake that then ensued A friendly curtain had best be drewed. Vain Sophomore gallantree Unarmed, outnumbered as one to three, Long will live in Barkalee In choicest legendree. How they were undismayed Of the charges wild they made ;