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THE MAIL

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

(Ed. Note--The Crimson does not necessarily endorse opinions expressed in printed communications. No attention will be paid to anonymous letters and only under special conditions, at the request of the writer, will names be withheld.)

Ed. note--Henry J. Goudey maintained in a CRIMSON interview Thursday that the world was not a globe but a disc with the North Pole at the center. He discounted the existence of a South Pole with the tuference that Admiral Byrd has been laboring under a misapprehension these last few years. The perturbation which his statement has caused is disclosed by the following communication from two undergraduates who choose to remain anonymous.

"Mocking Byrd"

We're all so sorry for Admiral Byrd!

What is the trouble? Why, haven't you heard?

He never stayed home like other folks,

But was lured afar by a popular hoax.

With pity we learn that his life-long goal

Is a non-existent Southern Pole.

For Mr. Goudey, in his new book,

Has proved that the Admiral has been took

Over the bumps: that the earth is flat

Not round. Now, what do you think of that?

We're all so sorry for Mrs. Byrd;

Our hearts with sympathy are stirred.

The downfall of her joy and pride

Was started when Columbus lied.

Come on, good people, shed a tear--

The earth has never been a sphere.

And Mrs. Byrd is quite undone,

Her castles caving, one by one,

And now, because of this sad story

She'll bask in no reflected glory.

We're all so sorry for Junior Byrd

Because his famous papa erred

For if the world is but a dise

Just how can a South Pole exist?

In youthful ignorance he dreamed of brave new worlds. How he's been reamed!

Recipient of his schoolmates scorn

Our sympathetic souls are torn

So pity little Junior's fate, All,

For he's woundup behind the eight-ball.

We're sorry most for Colonel Ruppert

How could a tycoon be so stuppert?

He'll find there isn't any honey

In putting up a lot of money

And then to have his expedition

Because of faulty supposition

Explore and map and fix his name

To (Byrd! Thy everlasting shame!)

Not brand new lands of ice and snow

But underparts of Mexico.

Let's give the Byrd to Mr. Goudey

For having the crust to be so rowdy

And spoiling other people's fun

By stripping Dick of laurels won.

He clearly cautions all posterity

To shun such ignorant temerity.

He frankly makes us rather ill.

We wish he'd courteously be still.

We counter with this adage ol':

A Byrd in the land is worth two at the Pole.

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