Give you a sign of a brotherhood.
Oh, I like to meet them, every one,
From the Daughter of Peace to a Son of a Gun.
But I can’t quite feel the same delight
As I used to when, some summer night,
I’d take a few of the high degrees
In the O. K. K. B. W. P’s.
We had no lodge-room with locks and bars
—Our hall was the dome ’neath the winking
stars;