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!