Intimations of Crimson Munificence

Poor Santa just called us with news you won't like:

Elves' Union #240 decided to strike.

But don't you despair--to the rescue we go,

Delivering gifts to the people we know.

Before we embark on much-needed vacation,


We offer some loot to the administration.

To Jeremy Knowles, now a British commander,

We wish that your budget could be a bit grander.

To Jerry Green, provost, good luck with your plans

To get all the turf-fighting deans to hold hands.

A unified Harvard? One dean we can't snub:

John McArthur receives his own platinum tub.

To dear President Neil, our fundraiser deluxe,

We hope you can round up a few billion bucks.

O Captain! Our Captain! We don't intend spite,

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