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The Geologist Gay

(With apologies to Past, Present and future Geology Classes.)

The geologist gay has a real winning way,
He dabbles in rocks and in fossils all day.
He can tell you the length of a Smilodon's nose,
And calculate right an old dinosour's toes.

The geologist gay studies minerals gray
Just set out all nice and with names on a tray.
He puts them all out in long lines and in row,
And swots off their hardness and see which he knows.

The geologist gay with a nice little spray
Squirts water all over a dish full of clay;
And although he gets dirty, with pleasure he glows
To see how the water erodes as it Yows.

The geologist gay thinks it really is play,
Grinding rock sections which "aft gang agley,"
And if his remarks are not suited to prose,
Then he'll start off again on his work with the hose.

The geologist gay has a great deal to say
Of geomorphology—cliffing and bay,
I'm sure he knows nough of all life's little woes
Till "practical's" done and he's off in a dose.

The geologist gay then awakes in dismay
To find he's not drawn all the Veneridae.
"I wish," he may groan, "they'd all metamorphose.
"And microscopes wouldn't their structure disclose."

The geologist gay much good lucre would pay
For a fossilised egg or echinoderm, say.
Or to see how the genus Ceratodus rose
And why glaciers run from the land of the snows.

The geologist gay for good weather will pray
To go for long rambles on each Saturday,
And although he's as fresh—to begin—as a rose,
He comes back as tired as the Lord only knows.

The geologist gay will, oh never, say "Nay"
If you ask him to give up the dance and to stay.
And to see how the molluse and brachipod grows
And if on its stomach the tribbite goes.

Tht geologist gay then depart from the fray
And goes to the Tea Room for cafe-au-lait.
And yet with this word to you all I will close.
He wouldn't be anything else if he chose.

—L.C.K.