And To All, A Merry Christmas
CHEER UP, O ye students, beg have you no fear
It's gift time again, sit down, grab some egg not, some beer.
As the weather starts turnin'
And before we begin learnin'
The work we've neglected all year,
Remember, the Yuletide season
Is an eminent reason
For friends to exchange many a gift.
Please take in the right spirit
This poem when you hear it,
And if left out, pray do not be miffed.
FOR DEAR Derek Bok, no longer young but still suave
We offer to you this holiday salve.
Having a wife with whom you can't lie
You'll put to many good uses
A bag full of air-tight excuses
Go ahead--give one a try.
For A. Michael Spence, who yearns for a presidency
We hoped for you a pricy Princeton residency.
But, good man, they wouldn't have you in Joisey
What about Idaho? There are fine schools in Boisie.
For Dean Graham Allison, author of Essence of Decision
Please, please remember the K-School's mission.
Until then, for you, three professorial slots
Use them wisely and you can rake in lots.
To Archie C. Epps, with red rose so dashing,
We grant thee nobility, cure for hopes crashing.
For new V.P., former landlord S. Zeckhauser,
To use on Mike Turk, we leave you a howitzer.
To Dean Johnny Fox, once Ad Board Bard
Fondly, for you the memoirs of Marquis de Sade.
FOR THE Fly Club and its president, young Ian Huschle,
Loved by women across campus a peck and a bushel,
We leave for you in your well-appointed foyer,
The only thing you'll take--a Harvard-trained lawyer.
For the Reverend Mr. Gomes, good Pastor Peter
May next year's sermons--and wardrobe--be even neater.
To churlish Charlie Maier, Harvard's new chief enforcer
We leave something that rhymes, something by Chaucer.
Poor Jose Razo, for armed robbery did you thirst
We leave for you dinner for two with Patty Hearst.
For John R. Marquand, whose name always beckons
We hope for you never-ending seconds.
FOR MIKE S. Dukakis, a man so loved in this city,
And a dreamer who dreams just like Walter Mitty
To you we leave the great gift of banter.
May it serve you well in the great state of New Hampshire
Why didn't you think of it yourself, Mr. Vice President?
As of today, you're a proud New Hampshire resident.
To Guv Mario Cuomo who's not in the race
We give a record, not a resume--just in case.
For Gary Hart, again hot for the fray,
Oh when will you realize, you're not JFK.
Before we move on, Gar, we just have to say
Give us a gift: go away, go away.
For Quincy House Master Michael Shinagel
Since you can't pass the Quincy checker, one giant bagel.
For our friends at the Quad, we have an innovation
A full semester free of the slightest renovation.
For all of the friendly members of SASC
We hope for limelight in which you may bask.
For the Lampy, so funny we sometimes need tissues
Nothing, until we see your first issues.
Congressman Kemp, you had a nuclear arm
Your presidential campaign, however, is one big bomb.
Cocktail napkins, for you, a great deep box
To record those economic ideas that knock off our socks.
To Delaware Governor Pierre S. Dupont.
From whom ideas flow as from a font.
We give you this day, don't think we're mean,
A $200 gift certificate, good at L.L. Bean.
For Young Albert Gore, Class of '69
We'll have Tipper croon He's So Fine.
Al Haig, you're such a tough guy..such!
Take a few bong hits, they'll lighten your touch.
May you go from the outhouse
To the courthouse
To the statehouse
To the White House.
Pat Robertson, we offer to you this message in tongues:
Que Pasa, vos macht ir, e pluribus dachsunds.
Bob Dole, as a Senate leader you are no louse
But here's a pair of pants, to wear in your house.
To ol' Ronald Reagan, we hope we're not borin' ya
Take some power tools for your ranch (It's in California).
To Judge Robert H. Bork we'd offer a new holiday tidin'
But they've all been said, by someone and then by Joe Biden
TO GILBERT F., our colleague and friend
We bid you farewell as your stint here reaches its end.
To dear, dear Sorrento, always there in a pinch,
How long you been in this country? An inch?
For you from Rob a gift we did extracto.
Enjoy it, Pat, a shiny, new exacto.
For Brian Byrne, a pressman supreme
We wish early nights, and many a soft dream.
And to you dear reader
May the New Year be sweeter
Than ere that's gone before.
May the days be brighter,
Your load a little lighter--
But don't forget you have to come back for more.