The Spike: or, Victoria College Review Capping Carnival 1920

Act III

Act III.

Cave Canem

(Which being interpreted meaneth—according to the Junior Latin Class—Beware lest I sing).

Psalm

Air from English Prayer Book. Psalter—Morning Prayer. Te Deum Laudamus—Second Chant.

1. Gaze ye, O gaze | upon | us. The wise men | of our | gener | ation;
2. For unto us the future| of the | land Is as the clay in the | hands | of the | potter.
3. From the setting of the sun * to the rising up | of the same, We commune together for the | greatness | of the | nation.
4. Lo, we are the publicans of this | gener | ation, And unto us are committed the shekels | of a stiff-necked people.
5. And he that asketh, receiveth | only | one-half Of | what — | — he asketh;
6. So that the University we have | builded Only | half — | — suf | ficeth.
7. Wherewithal and howsoever may we | tax the | farmers, And cast out from our midst | those that | profit | eer,
8. We no | manner of | means Have as yet or ever | shall — | have dis | covered;
9. Behold, when the ful | ness of time Shall | call us | to our | fathers,
10. St. Peter shall provide us * at the gate each with the wings | of an | angel, Likewise a sweet-sounding harp | and all the | latest | tunes.
11. Then shall we twang * seated each on a | golden cloud, Bright with the haloes bestowed on us | for our | goodly | labours.
12. Verily we shall make there | soulful | music; But we shall leave as an inheritance to our successors | Wellington's new | railway | station |

The Good Old Times

Gone are the trousers of last year,
And consumed its ice-creams;
Never to come again, we fear,
Save to men in their dreams.
For though we feed them, pet them, all their lives,
They're still the dear old tabby things.
Queer, old tabby things;
Dressed in their trousers of last year
That they wear in their dreams.

In Debt

O, my name's Henry Wright, and I think I'm not wrong
If I say my profession is debt;
It's not elevating but "tanto pro quid,"
And you don't get your neck in a sweat.
Now, everyone here who has seen my top hat
Will admit it's a topping affair;
The cheques on my trousers are crossed as you see,
So you might as well stay where you were.

Refrain:
Suppose there were five thousand grocers who groced,
Engrossed in the getting of pelf;
And lots of your friends had big shares in the same,
Great Wombats! you'd get some yourself.
Suppose now, Bill Massey, with tears in his eyes,
Said, "Henry, won't you have a spot?"
You'd say, "I don't think! It leads one to drink.
Eh—what!"

Some fortunate people look down on my trade,
Which doesn't admit of degrees.
If it did, which it doesn't, there can be no doubt,
Professors are hard ones to squeeze.

Now if one tried to square me with Roman Law Notes,
That he'd written all out of his head,
And one was a Bolshevik brutal and bad,
I'd say what I always have said:—

Refrain:
Who knows that I mightn't have been a prof., too;
I can profit a lot in my way.
I might be the scion of some noble king,
Or a rajah who lives at Bombay.
I might be a hunter, a punter perhaps;
As a child I was filched from my cot.
My pedigreed blood you see from my stud,
Eh—what!

O, girls, if you'd seen me just three months ago,
As I tapped at the door of Lloyd George:
"If that is you, Henry, then come right inside."
He was forging notes fast in a forge.
He offered me poison for Highlander Milk;
I said, "Here, old boy, don't you fret.
New Zealand is hard up, so hand out the pay—
I've come for the National Debt."

Refrain:
He said, "Who'd have thought it to look at your face,
It's the funniest face that I've seen."
I answered, "You rude man, where's Parent and Guard?
He's sure to be here on the scene.
Now out with the tin." And he handed it out,
And here's little me with the lot.
O, girls, it's all true, so what shall I do?
Eh—what!