When the men come up again Filcher, and the Term is at its height,
You'll never see me more in these long gay rooms at night;
When the old dry wines are circling and the claret-cup flows cool,
And the loo is fast and furious with a fiver in the pool.
You'll pack my things up, Filcher, with Mrs. Tester's aid,
You may keep the wine I leave behind, the tea, and marmalade.
I shall not forget you, Filcher, I shall tip you when I pass,
And I'll give you something handsome if I get a second-class.
Good-night, good-night, when I have passed my tripos with success,
And you see me driving off to catch the one o'clock "express;"