Gown to gown and cap to cap?
Hark at the Johnian gates each thund’ring rap,
While thro’ opposing Dons they move their way,
Ye Johnian towers, old W—d’s eternal shame,
With many a midnight imposition fed,
Revere his algebra’s immortal fame,
And spare the meek mechanic’s holy head.
Each bristled boar will bear no more,
And meeting in the Combination Room,
They stamp their vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.