Here’s to Sammy’s son, bring him down, bring him down:
Here’s to Sammy’s son, bring him down, bring him down:
Here’s to Sammy’s son, for he’s always full of fun;
Bring him down, bring him down, bring him down, down, down, down.
Young Lee recognized the tenor voice in a moment. He and Parmenter were bosom friends. Their companions had long ago dubbed them Damon and Pythias.
“Hello, Fred!” cried Lee, “are you there? Hello, fellows! Is there room for me?”
“Always room for one more,” was the reply. “Move up, please! Move up now and let the gentleman aboard! Why don’t you help him on, Freddie? Help him on; he’s yours.”
There was more good-natured bantering. Then the party faced toward the campus and started on, singing a good-night song to Professor Lee:
Good-night, Sammy! Good-night, Sammy! Good-night, Sammy!
We’re going to leave you now.
Merrily we roll along, roll along, roll along;
Merrily we roll along
O’er the deep blue sea.
The steps sounded in unison, the heavy canes beat time, and back from the campus, mellowed by the growing distance, came still the music of the song:
Sweet dreams, Sammy! Sweet dreams, Sammy!
Sweet dreams, Sammy!
We’re going to leave you now.
Through a half-open window the words came floating softly into the ears of Professor Lee, and he smiled as he thought of the real affection and seeming irreverence of the boys. Though his hair was white with years, his heart was very youthful.