I beside the blue-gate lying,
Round and round all objects flying,
Just to reach my bed was trying,
After the Soirée.
Now I hear the music stopping,
Now the corks from champagne popping,
Now the wasted money dropping,
After the Soirée,
Now I sleep and now awaken,
Find myself by classmates taken
To the bed that I'd forsaken,
After the Soirée.
When the light of day comes o'er me,
What have I but flunks before me?
Greek and Latin, how they bore me,
After the Soirée.
F.R.D.B. Garnet.
~A Panacea.~
If your health is not quite right,
If you have no appetite,
If you cannot sleep at night,
Light your pipe.
If conditions round you press,
If your stock of cuts grows less,
Spoiling all your happiness,
Light your pipe.
If your debts upon you weigh,
If your bills you cannot pay,
As they come in day by day,
Light your pipe.
There's no trouble in this land,
Lack of wealth, or loss of stand,
Loss of health, or lady's hand,
Which can this sure cure withstand!
Light your pipe.