Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there’s nothing can freeze!
Was it snowing I spoke of? Excuse the mistake!
Look close,—you will see not a sign of a flake!
We want some new garlands for those we have shed,—
And these are white roses in place of the red.
We’ve a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told,
Of talking (in public) as if we were old:—
That boy we call “Doctor” and this we call “Judge;”
It’s a neat little fiction,—of course it’s all fudge.
That fellow’s the “Speaker,”—the one on the right;