THE JANITOR'S SONG.
With features sallow and grim,
With visage sadly forlorn,
The Janitor sat in the Janitor's room,
Weary, and sleepy, and worn.
'Tis a fact, fact, fact!
He sat with a visage long;
And still as he sat, with a voice half cracked,
He sang this Janitor's song:
"Sweep, sweep, sweep,
In dirt, in smoke, and in dust,
And sweep, sweep, sweep,
Till I throw down my broom in disgust.
Stairs, and chapel, and halls,
Halls, and chapel, and stairs—
Till my drowsy head on my shoulder falls,
And sleep brings release from my cares."
"From the very first crack of the gong,
From the earliest gleam of daylight,
Day after day and all day long,
Far into the weary night,
It's sweep, sweep, sweep,
Till my broom doth a pillow seem;
Till over its handle I fall asleep,
And sweep away in my dream.
"Oh! students of high degree,
(I scorn to address a low fellow),
"Oh! seniors most reverend, potent, and grave,
(In the words of the great Othello),
My story's a sad one indeed,
Notwithstanding your laughter and sport;
My life is naught but a broken reed,
And my broom is my only support."
With features sallow and grim,
With visage sadly forlorn,
The Janitor sat in the Janitor's room,
Weary, and sleepy, and worn.
It's a fact, fact, fact,
He sat with a visage forlorn,
And still as he sat with a voice half cracked,
He sang the Janitor's song.
Carmina Collegensia.