A MAY DREAM OF THE FEMALE EXAMINATION.
IF you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear,
For to-morrow in the senate-house at nine I must appear:
To-morrow for all womankind will be a glorious day,
And I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say.
There's many a blue, blue stocking, but none so blue as I;
There's not a girl amongst them all with me can hope to vie:
There's none so sharp as little Alice, not by a long, long way,
And I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say,
I lie awake all night, mother, but in the morn I sleep,
And dream of Virgil, Euclid, Dons, all jumbled in a heap,
And the letters in the Euclid dance about like lambs at play:
O, I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say.
As I came by King's Chapel, whom do you think I saw,
But Andrew Jones de Mandeville Fitzherbert Aspenshaw!
He thought of that hard problem I gave him yesterday;
For I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say.
He thought me such a bore, mother, for he couldn't get it right,
To see him puzzle o'er it was such a funny sight;
But not on such a dolt as that I'd throw myself away!
For I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o the list, they say.
They say he is fond-hearted, but that can never be:
He can't get through his "Littlego," then what is he to me?
There's many a Senior wrangler who'll woo me in the May,
For I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say.
Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the gate,
And, till they give the questions out, at the window she must wait;
And when she's got them, back to you, mother, she'll haste away,
And I m to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say.
In the papers country parsons have been writing lots of trash:
They say this scheme for us, mother, is sure to come to smash;
And agèd Dons all shake their heads, and say it will not pay;
But I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say.
If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear,
I'd something more to say, mother, but my head is not quite clear;
For I always have a headache when I put my books away;
But I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list they say.
* * * * *
"I thought to have gone down before, but still up here I am,
And still there's hanging o'er me that horrible Exam.
They said I should be top, mother; but then I'd such bad luck,
Though I went in for honours—I only got a pluck!"
X. Y. B., CHRIST'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
College Rhymes, 1865.