THE NAVY AT CAMBRIDGE.

When first I joined the R.N.V.

And ventured out upon the sea,

The war-tried Subs. R.N. and Looties

Who guided me about my duties

Were wont to wink and chuckle if

I found the going rather stiff;

And when, upon the Nor'-East Rough,

My legs proved scarcely firm enough

To keep me yare and head-to-wind

The very nicest of them grinned.

Now times are changed, and here I am

Once more beside the brimming Cam,

Where lo, those selfsame Loots and Subs

Whirl madly by in punts and tubs,

Which they propel by strength of will

And muscle rather more than skill.

For (if one may be fairly frank)

They barge across from bank to bank,

With zig-zag motions, in and out,

As though torpedoes were about;

Whilst I with all an expert's ease

Glide by as gaily as you please,

Or calmly, 'mid the rout of punts,

Perform accomplished super-stunts.

But do not think I jibe or jeer

However strangely they career.

In soothing accents, sweet as spice,

I offer them my best advice,

Or deftly show them how to plant a

Propulsive pole in oozy Granta,

Observing, "If you only knew it

This is the proper way to do it;"

Till soon each watching Looty's face

Grows full of wonder at my grace,

And daring Subs in frail Rob Roys

Attempt to imitate my poise.

O war-tried Loots and Subs. R.N.,

Thus by the Cam we meet again;

And, as in wilder sterner days,

We shared the ocean's dreary ways

In fellowship of single aim,

I never doubt we'll do the same

By sunny Cam in happier times;

And therefore, if through these my rhymes

Some gentle banter slyly flits,

Forgive me, Sirs—and call it quits.


From a club journal:—

"Members will look forward to the River Trip this year as a change from a Trip to the River."

This constant craving for variety is one of the most unhealthy symptoms of the times in which we live.


From a report of the debate on the National Shipyards:—

"'The Mercantile Marine was our weakest front. If the sinking increased our unbiblical cord would be cut' (a graphic phrase this)."—Provincial Paper.

Graphic, perhaps, but hardly stenographic.


Poacher (to gamekeeper who has been chasing him for twenty minutes). "NOW, SONNY, IF YOU'VE 'AD A GOOD REST WE'LL SET OFF AGAIN."