O but the ghosts at each turn I could show
you!—
Ghosts in low collars and little cloth caps—
Each of 'em now quite an elderly O.U.—
Wiser, no doubt, and as pleasant—perhaps!
That's where poor Jack lit the slide up with
tollies,
Once when the quad was a foot deep in snow—
When a live Bishop was one of the Pollies * —
Ages and ages and ages ago!