RING out, wild bells, on the joyous night,

Sound forth from spire and dome;

For a warrior comes on the latest train,

With a 'broidered bag and a bamboo cane, -

The Freshman is coming home.

He cometh back from the bold Crusade;

His feet have trod in Gore;

His Welded armor has stood the Din

Of the Severe fight 'gainst proctors thin;

And he's crammed full of lore.

His snow-white cuffs, once spotless and pure,

Are black with the marks of strife;

Weird talismans now are their contents,

But "Honi soit qui mal y pense,"

And they oft have saved his life.

He has cut and deaded time and again,

"Sans peur et sans reproche;"

He has ridden his pony far and wide,

From Ancient Gaul to where Ajax died,

And sometimes used a coach.

Then, warder, toot loudly your blatant horn,

Else he lay into the tutor;

And prepare ye now, each pretty maid,

To receive him back from the wild Crusade,

And make him each your suitor!