University of Nebraska College of Law - Yearbook (Lincoln, NE)

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And so it was, with solemn face And strong an' manly swing A-comin' along-a good stiff pace- A-cornin' our way, by Ging! An' jest as he was goin' past Us a-settin' on that bench I ris' right up to show I dast An' give hisarln a wrench. An' then he looked right straight at me To- scold fur what I'd done, But all he said was 'Tm glad to see You strangers here, I swan! An' then he ses, Have you a boy To send to me to learn, Fur we hold yo-u with sort 0' joy As a partner in this concern. An' then he told us what to see An' said he'd send around Some so-rt of guide fur ma an' me An' so he did, I'm bound! I've heard a heap about him, Si, O' speakin' to the folks 'Bout gettin' married. by an' by, The newsmen think 'em jokes. 'Bout poor n1en's kids an' sich as that, It's only newsy plunder, The newsman's talkin' through his hat, Fur Ben's all right, by thunder! An' so' We staid an' looked around- Seen all the sights about, Then set and watched the sun go down An' seen the stars come out. And when the night had shaken o!er Her curtains blue an' drab I done what I seldom did afore- I squeezed ma's hand, by grab! An' so, when next fair time comes again Fm going there once more In spite of cyclone, hail, er rain .Iest as I did afore. Fur, don't yer know, I tell yer, Si, They like to have us come, Fur on the side, twixt you and I, We pay the bills, by gum! 148 R

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And he wept a weep that was woeful long As he gazed on his awe-struck crowd, And he sware an oath beneath his breath That could scarce be thought aloud. Are there none that are old, that are wise, cried he None but these students green! Of all cheap guys I have viewed, I wot, The worst are these, I ween. Alack a day! and alas, alack.! I-Ie trilled to his trembling tribe, Oh why are there none in the days of now 'W ho equal your humble scribe. Oh, why are the men who live to-day So lacking in wit and worth, Oh, why are there none so Wise as I Upon this great green earth? F or ,tis writ up there in the great great writ, On the record in the sky That till such I find in my fearsome fare 'Tis willed I can not die. And he gnawed his nails and he tore his hair, And he burned his Hesh with lime, And the awful rage of this awful man Is thought o-f to this time. But the time passed by as it sometimes does When all is done and said, And the golden gleam of the grinning moon I-Iad ofttimes turned to red. And the glowing hair of this grewsome prof Assumed a grayish white, And age's hand had bent his head, Against his bent and might. And the classes came and the classes Went, And babes grew old and died, And a weary, wirey, woeful wreck Now searched the earth and cried. 150