CHORUS

  For the tar may roam, but the tar comes home
      to wherever his home may be,
  With a Yo, heave ho, and a o e to_, [1] and a
      Master of Arts Degree_!

  They have gone to imbibe the classical lore
      of Learning’s ancient seat
  (They are sadly at sea in the classics as
      yet, though classis is Latin for fleet),
  It is there you will find those naval men,
      by the Isis and eke the Cher.,
  For Scholarship is the only ship that is fit
      for a bold Jack Tar.

  He has bartered his rum for a coach and a
      crib, at the First Lord’s stern decree,
  And he learns the use of the rocket and
      squib (which are useful as lights at sea): 
  And they train him in part of the nautical
      art, as much as a landsman can,
  For they teach him to paddle the gay canoe,
      and to row the rash randan.

  Should he e’er be inclined his Tutors and
      Deans to look with contempt upon
  (Observing the maxims of Raleigh and
      Drake, who never thought much of a Don),
  Let him think there are things in the nautical
      line that even a Don can do,
  For only too well are examiners versed in
      the way to plough the Blue!

  Though a Captain per se is an excellent
      thing for repelling his country’s foes,
  He is better by far, as an engine of war, with
      a knowledge of Logic and Prose: 
  And a bold A.B. is the nation’s pride, in
      his rude uncultured way,
  But prouder still will the nation be when
      he’s also a bold B.A.!

  CHORUS

  For the Horse Marine will be Tutor and Dean,
      in the glorious days to be,
  With his Yo, heave ho, and his o e to, [1] and a
      Master of Arts degree!

[1.  Transcriber’s note:  the character group “o e to” was transliterated from the Greek characters omicron (with the rough-breathing diacritical), eta (with the rough-breathing diacritical), tau, and omicron (with the soft-breathing diacritical).]

A DREAM

  In sleep the errant phantasy,
    No more by sense imprisoned,
  Creates what possibly might be
    But actually isn’t: 
  And this my tale is past belief,
    Of truth and reason emptied,
  ’Tis fiction manifest—­in brief
    I was asleep, and dreamt it.

  I met a man by Isis’ stream,
    Whose phrase discreet and prudent,
  Whose penchant for a learned theme
    Proclaimed the Serious Student: 
  I never knew a scholar who
    Could more at ease converse on
  The latest Classical Review
    Than that superior person.

  He spoke of books—­all manly sports
    He deemed but meet for scoffing: 
  He did not know the Racquet Courts—­
    He’d never heard of golfing—­
  Professors ne’er were half so wise,
    Nor Readers more sedate! 
  He was—­I learnt with some surprise—­
    An undergraduate.