An Oxford Song.
Oh, the days we read those musty books, a short time ago,
Were certainly the seediest a man could ever know.
We filled no glass, we kissed no lass, our hacks grew fat and sleek,
We thought it dissipation if we rode them twice a week.
We rose up early in the morn, we sat up late at e’en,
And nought but horrid lexicons about us could be seen!
Unheeded lay our meerchaums then, our “Lopez” bound in green;
The undisturbed blue-bottle was on our team-whip seen;