If you're waking call me early, call me early, Filcher dear,
For I'll keep a morning Chapel upon my last New-year.
My last New-year before I take my Bachelor's Degree,
Then you may sell my crockery-ware, and think no more of me.
To-night I bade good-bye to Smith: he went and left behind
His good old rooms, those dear old rooms, where oft I sweetly dined;
There's a new year coming up, Filcher, but I shall never see
The Freshman's solid breakfast, or the Freshman's heavy tea.
Last May we went to Newmarket: we had a festive day,
With a decentish cold luncheon in a tidy one-horse-shay.