Reflections on a Varsity career

Friend or enemy, draw near;
Wellingtonians, lend an car;
I too had a Varsity career
In the early, early days.

I'll tell you nothing but the truth.
In the Queen City of the South
Our drinking habits wens uncouth
In the early, early days.

My thoughts were neo-pagan then.
I didn't belong to the S.C.M.
They didn't like me and I didn't like them
In the early, early days.

I never held it was a sin
To sink a quart of orange gin.
On Thursday my weekend would begin
In the early, early days.

Peculiar things were done and seen
In the Robert Burns and the Bowling Green.
God did not chose to intervene
In the early, early days.

I liked to look at the birds and trees;
My textbooks gathered mould in peace;
I regarded swotting as a loathsome disease
In the early, early days.

For recreation I played Slippedy Sam
With a sailor on an oilboat from Abadan.
The Johns caught up with him, poor man,
In the early, early days.

My girlfriend had a flat of her own
With Japanese tea-cups and finger bones.
In a fortnight I lost half a stone
In the early, early days.

Together we studied jet propulsion.
I never drank my Lane's Emulsion;
I avoided Psych. Prac, with revulsion
In the early, early days.

Life went faster in '44.
I didn't have time to find it a bore
Between her place and the bottle store
In the early, early days.

The lecturer's head was bald, of granite;
I admired the flics that skated upon It
And watched the clock shift minute by minute.
In the early, carry days.

My cobber lived on Prince's Street.
The things we discussed I won't repeat.
There was lots to drink and little to eat
In the early, early days.

Formal attire was seldom from;
The parties kept on going till dawn
And saveloy skins were left on the lawn
In the early, early days.

My relatives told me I'd wake with a bump
When I ended up on the rubbish dump;
But I lived like a camel off my hump
In the early, early days.

Till the little green canary was eaten by the cat,
Till an octopus climbed from the brewer's vat,
Till the vulture squawked on the front door mat
In the early, early days.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust:
If the grog doesn't kill you hard yacker must
I think my physique was more robust
In the early, early days.

Now my song roust have an ending:
But I'm sure you'll agree who have heard me sing
That a Varsity career is an excellent thing
As it was for me in the early days,
In the early, early days.

—James K. Baxter