Three Students.
Three students were walking, all dressed in their best,
On a Sunday in Term, without cap, without gown.
Each lit a cigar that came from the West,
And they thought they’d astonish the men of the town.
For men will slum, tho’ their guv’nors weep,
Who have got to stump up to pay for their keep,
And the Tutor ’bout work may be groaning.
Three students sat up past the midnight chimes,
And they re-trimmed their lamps, as they oft ran down,