14
THE : HESPERIAN
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BIxly"N Kctrenl.
Good-bye!
Will see you later at the Exposition.
Rush de Canna, von Schlitz, promises to be a
great favorite during tiio coming summer season.
The man who is deader than an Egyptian mum
my is he, who, while nominally alive, does absolute
ly nothing.
OUR 1'ATKON SAINT.
Far greater tliau the bards of old
Who sang the sack of Troy,
Who raved at deeds of valor lold
From Rome to Illinois.
Is he who here, while others dig
Their trendies 'gam tin Spanish foe,
Sings of that mortgaged charcoal pig
And "Spec" of Broken Bow.
Let grateful people of our state
Crown him whate'er lef:ill
Nebraska's poet laureate,
The jokicst man of all-
There is a difference between diplomacy and
spite work.
Yes, revenge is sweet, bet well, Sam, now hon
estly, isn't that taste in your mouth a trille bitu-r?
A TIME FOKTKAKS.
I'm not a man to make lament
Nor feed the world my moan.
But there arc times when I n-peni
With penitential groan.
'Tis when I see my dullest lino
Extolled as Hashing wit;
Tis when I see some long ears shine
Across my lucky hit;
'Tis when some wag that crarkshis jip
About my roast on Slick,
When 1 but touch his tender rib.
Will prance anil bray ami kick.
Boastful to their betters,
Of their great endeavors
Constantly they pratt
Think them men of letters
Pride their wit dissevers,
Cheeky Ninety-eight.
Mor than all before them
Living while they live
On their ma's estate;
Times can not ignore thcra,
Giving, they will give
Praise to Ninety-eight.
ft received a fine lot of Slippers for Commencement,
The EdHoi'V Vnlortictory.
A sadness and gloom beyond my control
Have settled deep into the depths of my soul,
As I drop my tired quill, envenomed, alack,
And view the sad havoc along the back track.
Stinging pain, keen remorse, wildly bloom
ing regret,
Sad anguish so bitter, I fain would forget
This and more I have suffered; my copyright
grin
Is contracted in sorrowful penance for sin.
I am sorry I told of our soldier-boy sprees,
How Landis,ShuflT,Parmelee carried oif cheese,
How Kring runs the Uni. to beat the old band,
How polywog Pearson lacks backbone and
sand.
Kind Hejvvcn forgivo ine in penitence rare,
Forswearing so long at Prof Davis' shoit
prayer;
Forgive me for being the first one to say
That brains, hair and clothing don't make
Bill McKay.
Oh, I weep to recall how cruel 'twas to say
That "Pinkie" would ne'er win a gilt P.B.K.,
Though ho toiled,studied,dug as a studious lad
From prephood until chosen "Prof." at Cozad.
And the tears big as war-shijs drop on my
cravat,
To think how I've libeled our own "Preachers
Frat."
And I weep to recall I have blotted my page
With libels against the Silurian ago,
But the problem complex, I confess, just
reduces
To judging an age by what it produces,
But I ne'er can consent to retrace my bold
steps
So long as the "Powers" retain wooden-
image
Then
Farewell, to friend and foe farewell
To my successor I bequeath
My subjects, gall, brains, wit, and quill,
My satire dire and matchless skill
Both warranted to cure or kill
And, too, I leave him praise and blame,
All joy, and pleasure, and hard-earned fame,
And "perquisites"! need not name,
Likewise my laurel wreath.
Foot Form Store 1213 O street
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s-JAJ v-4N
