And we looked into our bankers, but nothing could we see,
And at last there came the fearful time for what we call “degree.”
We read—’twas but an instant! for speedily the pride
Of being plucked twice for “little go,” all chance of ours defied;
This gave boldness to th’ examiners, as, sitting in a row,
They told us we might mizzle, for indeed it was no go.
That night a horrid proctor fell on us where we lay,
And we knew some fine policemen were carrying us away;
And we heard the wash of waters—hard by the gutter we—
And a whistle from a friend of ours who knew how it would be.