"Well, come on," said Songbird. And a few minutes later the four students were down at the boathouse, getting out one of the four-oared boats.
"Say, Songbird, I should think this would put you in the rhyming fever," said Sam, as the four lads rowed out on the river.
"It does," returned the would-be poet.
"All right, turn on the verse spigot and let us have the latest effusion," cried Tom, gaily.
"The verses aren't finished yet," answered Songbird. And then resting his oar, he drew from his pocket a slip of paper and began to read:
"The term is passed,
Away we cast
Our books and papers with great glee.
No more we'll train
Each tired brain——""Instead, we'll cheer because we're free!"
concluded Tom.
"Say, that isn't half bad," broke out Songbird, enthusiastically. "I was going to put in something about flee——"
"For gracious sake! What have fleas to do with this poetry?" interposed Tom.
"Fleas! Who said anything about fleas?" snorted Songbird. "I said 'flee,' f-l-e-e."