Tobacco smoke!
The Freshman by his scout was found,
Lying all prone upon the ground,
And still his hand grasped like a vice
The “baccy”-pouch with strange device,
Tobacco smoke!
There, in the morning cold and gray,
Moaning, and all unkempt, he lay,
And then the scout, unmoved, serene—
Said—“Oh! ’tis easy to be seen,