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The Strenuous Life.

"A Veteran."

Air: "Peace, Peace." ("Country Girl.")

At our great 'Varsity
If you're secretary
For any important committee;
You will find that your life
Is continual strife,
And that you are an object for pity.
Grievances by the score
Will be laid at your door,
And schemes for your consideration,
And you sit up all night,
Putting these matters right,
While you long for a quick liberation.

Chorus:
Peace, peace, oh for some peace,
This life is a mixture of woes.
When you hit on a plan
To suit every man,
It is promptly put out by your foes.

If you start a bazaar
You will have de la Mare
On your tracks with a monster petition,
On the grounds—somewhat long—
That to raffle is wrong,
And will send you to lasting perdition.
If attendance is small
And the gains of each stall
Less than two hundred sovereigns amount to,
When a thousand or more
They expected to score,
As an "absolute waster" they count you.

Chorus:
Peace, peace, oh for some peace,
You work till you nearly collapse,
Then you try to repose,
But the telephone goes.
—And you slumber "to-morrow," perhaps.

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If it falls to your lot,
Whether rightly or not,
To manage the capping arrangements.
The songs that you choose
And the ones you refuse,
May lead to the saddest estrangements.
When the young undergrads.—
Men of fashion and fads—
Try to show their superior knowledge,
By creating a "row"
That the "Profs." won't allow,
On you falls the blame of the College.

Chorus:
Peace, peace, oh for some peace,
And rest from this terrible strife.
If scholarly fame
Or Degree is your aim,
Beware of the strenuous life.