Where the chill blasts of Eurus, oppressed with the stench
Wax faint at the window, and strong at the bench;
Where Tertian and Semi are hot in dispute,
And the voice of the Magistrand never is mute;
Where the scrape of the foot and the audible sigh
In nature though varied, in discord may vie,
Till the accents of Wisdom are stifled and die;
Where the Bajuns are dense as the cookies they chew,
And all save the Regents have something to do:—
’Tis our Hall of Assembly, our high moral School,