Disher's Song.

Air—"The Pale Young Curate" from "The Sorcerer." (Gilbert and Sullivan).

Time was when womankind were sweet and tender,
With voices that were ever soft and low,
Their only care, to make themselves look slender,
Their only fear, that Age's hand should show.
We used to call them dear gazelles or fairies,
And worshipped, in some garden far remote,
Our Marguerites or Guiniveres or Marys;
Ah me; but that was ere they got the vote.

In earlier times, at sight of gun when loaded,
One little shreik and they would swoon away.
Electric light: They thought that it exploded;
They feared night's darkness creeping on the day.
But then with band secure and features placid,
And not without some measure of aplomb,
They scattered here and there the deadly acid;
Ah me, they hurled the loudly banging bomb.

And as they died, they called to them their daughters,
"Burn, Burn" they said, and "Blessed is she who starves,"
And "Men will growl, who must find better quarters,
Their own being burnt, to stow their better halves."
And thus in stages did these skirted millions,
Where burning words that hissed from burning throats,
Had failed, by burning pigstyes and pavilions;
Ah me, attain their much desired vote.

1.
In the olden days when the men received the bays,
We had really no decided bent,
This lasted till Dahn passed his little bill,
Which gave to women seats in Parliament.
Now he must bake till he's got the cooking done,
Spend his time in scrubbing on the floor,
While we legislate and hapless pressmen bait,
And at the sterner sex the females roar.
Won't you be a dainty suffragette, Little Hughie Mac,
We will give you something that you lack,

Both:—Secular Education.

We will show you how to fire a bomb,
And with great aplomb, reduce your embonpoint
Till you can sprint and never more need stint,

Both:—Mineral Waters.

2.
If you will choose to change your rosy views,
As to how to run this show of ours,
We will show you ways and a little trick that pays.
For the Law Clerk who the Coll for knowledge scours.
Since Ward has gone to the island of Ceylon,
Suffragettes decided quite to stay,
And the boy in blue is Bridget, Jane or Sue,
The Barrister is Alice, Maud or May.
Jimmy Garrow be a suffragette,
Then once more your whistle you can wet,

Both :—As in the days of local option.

We will show you wrongs you've never "tort,"
Ahd if you're a sport to bounce a Judge in Court,
And if you please, some extra fees we'll squeeze,

Both:—From College Students.

Now we've subjugated man,
We've nothing else to do,
So we order him around,
And dock his monthly screw.
We have organised a Club,
On Savage Student lines,
And we've had to raise a sub.
To pay our members' fines.
But last night the news came through,
Of a discovery,
For a straying Aeroplane,
Has found a new countree.
Within the men are dominant,
And women are oppressed,
So now we're off by Zeppelin,
To burst this little nest.

Chorus:
So off to Atlantis,
We're going to sail,
Right up into heaven,
Leave at half-past seven.
Don't mind the weather,
We shall not fail,
To see that old Compton's jumped on,
For telling stories he shocked our boys.
I need hardly mention
It is our intention
To capture those false men,
And bring them back,
So keep your eye
Upon the sky,
And follow our track.

Students are requested to support our advertisers, and also the following, who helped us in the Procession : Blake and Carlisle, J. J. Curtis and Co., Ltd., Munt, Cottrell and Co., Ltd., N.Z and Colonial Carrying Co., Ltd., N.Z. Express Co., Ltd., O'Brien and Co., and H. Somerville; also Mr. J. E. Fitzgerald, Mr. Jameson, and N. Hornig and Co.

"Horses ran on the racecourse, and won as a matter of course,
I lost a tribe of money, backing the other horse."

—"The Baron's Early Days" (MacGill).

"The harvest of my oats is overdue."—Ibid.

Interval: Capping Songs.

Eos Laudamus.

By "Medley."

Air: "The Glenworple Highlanders."

III.

Now Davy talks of x and y and number values true,
And he'll prove to you conclusively that one and one make two.
If you do not know his notes your terms' exam, you'll not get through
At Victoria College.

The Standard Insurance isa purely New Zealand concern, therefore support it. Office Featherston Street, behind Kirkcaldie and Stains. Tel. 186.

page 19

Chorus :
While Von will spout most learnedly of French and German plays,
Or of little recollections of his own young student days.
You forget your own vexations as upon his smile you gaze
At Victoria College.

"Memories."

By "Three Sheets In."

Air: "The Top o' the Morning to You."

Oh, I've been to the feast of the glittering East,
I have nobbed with kings afar,
With E-nuts I have banded, and once I was stranded
With Eich on an alien bar.
In the councils of State and the halls of the great,
I have toiled for my baccy and grub;
I've a tropical thirst and been frequently nursed
By the boss of the handiest pub.

Chorus:
But give me the glamour of old,
The magic no ballad has told.
What a glory in the story
Memory's tablets unfold!
Those lectures on Caesar's decease!
That quest of the glistening Fleece !
I've often thought what waste of Art
When Phidias sculptured in Greece!

There we read how Aeneas, for lack of a he-ass,
The night of the horse-show at Troy,
Made an excellent prad for his elderly dad,
On that picky-back ride out of Troy.
But I sigh for the blaze of the westering days,
And the joy of the hovering dark,
When we sauntered from Coll. to a suitable knoll,
And inspected the seats in the Park.

Chorus:
Are the girlies at Home on the trail
With chloride of lime by the pail,—
Not explosive, just corrosive,—
Guaranteed never to fail ?
Are the sweet little things on the trail
Of a neat little sentence in gaol?
Of course, you know, it's just to show
Contempt for His Majesty's mail.

Is that p'litical weed of chameleon creed,
Who changes his views into gold,
Still the thorn in the side of the Government's pride ?
What tenure of land does he hold ?
Does he go to Australia with flaunting regalia,
Play tennis whenever he can ?
Is he right in the boat for the feminine vote ?
Do they christen him 'Eartful Dan ?

Chorus:
Oh, never abuse at his views,
They're colored with various hues.
Next election, sad dejection !
Rather not be in his shoes !
He's making a bid to be spry,
If you think he's inclined to be fly,
Of course, you know, it's just to show
How high he could fly if he'd try.

"Fine fellows, fine fellows. Pity they drink."

Compton on the k-nuts.

Aeroplane Song, Air—"Everybody's Doin' It Now."

Whirling, whirling, through the air,
Surrling, surrling here and there,
Like a ship at sea,
Twenty women we,
Up in an aeroplane, plain,
Fly, fly, fly, fly, never sink,
Shy, shy, shy, shy, we don't think;
If we're in the fash-
Ion and have a smash,
We'll just try it again.
Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doin' it,
Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doin' it.
Who's that fellow just behind a cloud,
With a voice that's very sweet though loud?
You could tell it even in a crowd,
It's Adam—it's Adam—it's Adam-son.
Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doin' it,
Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doin' it.
All the lads and nuts of the town,
Aitken, Stout, and John Rankin Brown,
Bob, bob, bob, bob up and down,
Everybody's doin' it now.

Picken, Picken, let her race,
Quicken, quicken up the pace
We have still to fly
Half way through the sky,
Ere we attain our aim, fame.
Pick, Pick, Pick, Pick, have a care,
Hurdles, hurdles, in the air,
Put there by the council to make us bounce,
It's a terrible shame.
Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doin' it,
Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doin' it.
Who's that cherub sitting up aloft,
With those features very sweet and soft ?
They're a kind you don't see very oft,
It's a Von, it's a Von, it's a Von—der
Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doin' it,
Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doing it.
We are bound in quest of man,
Find him, bind him, if we can,
It's a fashion Eve began,
Everybody's doin' it now,

"Wikitoria Hi."

Air: "Marching through Georgia."

Throw the ball about, my boys, we're on our game to-day,
On the fields of Miramar we'll show them how to play,
Punt and dribble like the College men of former day,
With our war-cry, "Wikitoria!"

Chorus:
For we're the boys who love the good old game,
For we're the boys to make a bid for fame,
We're ever keen, our football's clean,
We must let no one mar
The great traditions of Victoria.

We know no game is ever won until the whistle blows,
A motto we have all made clear to e'en the stoutest foes,
And though defeat may often greet the boys in emerald clothes,
Push and battle for Victoria.

Chorus : "For we're the boys," etc.

When hostile forwards siege our lines go down and stop the rush
The fending of the foemen do not let your tackles brush,
But find the line and turn them back and opposition crush,
Fighting for 'Varsity and Victoria.

Chorus : "For we're the boys," etc,

"Cinnamon."

Entr' Acte.

Miss Desperado's Dream of Justice in Atlantis, 1950.

"Such stuff as dreams are made of."

Caste:

Chorus of Nations: Ladies of Cheffield Choir.

"Dreams by the contrary always go."

Song of Enfranchised Women.

Air: "Land of Hope and Glory."

Justice, you know, once posed as blind,
And read not our decree,
But we her bandage did unwind
That she might clearer see.
Now we have found still yet a land
Where black the shadow lies,
Where Justice doth impotent stand
With her unseeing eyes.

Women of all nations, gather at the call,
Help to raise the wretched who are yet in thrall,
Fairer still and fairer will you make the world
With the flag of Franchise everywhere unfurled.

What of Atlantis 'cross the sea
Where Justice still is blind ?
Where womankind is still unfree—
Fettered in heart and mind—
Where yet the deeds they strive to do
As fretful thoughts remain?
Ah ! who will come to succour you
And Freedom for you gain?

Women of all nations, gather at the call,
Help to raise the weak ones, help them lest they fall
Winning still and winning, after many fights,
Justice, now all-seeing, gives us Women's Rights.

Justice, Atlantis taketh heart
And kneels no longer now,
But with her eager hands unties
The bandage from your brow.
What womankind has hoped for long
While you in darkness stayed,
Now that clear sight is given you
No more will be delayed.

Chorus:

Welcome to our ranks at last,
Fair Atlantis, fair Atlantis,
All your struggles now are past,
Fair Atlantis, fair Atlantis,
Ev'ry heart and ev'ry hand
In this cosmopolite band
Welcomes thee to Suffrage-land,
Fair Atlantis, fair Atlantis.

Current Events.

Our profs. are most zealous reformers,
And wish to abolish all cram,
Exams, are offences enormous,
The Senate a horrible sham.
As yet they have not quite succeeded
In getting their own little way;
Reform is most urgently needed,
But the Chancellor must have his say.

Chorus:
It will all come right in the future,
A Chancellor new we shall get.
Then the profs, in their glee,
Will our "ploughing" decree,
Oh, thank heaven, that's not just yet.

The Motherland's greatly excited,
Because of the sweet suffragette,
Who wants to blow up poor benighted
Old Asquith and his Cabinet.
We all love her methods most dearly,
Revolvers and bombs she will use
To show you so gently, yet clearly,
The justice and force of her views.

Chorus:
It will all come right in the future,
For the "soft" sex will then mean the men,
When la femme rules the roost,
You will have to get used,
To her coming home after ten.

At Easter a Carnival splendid
Was held in our city so gay,
Alas ! what is "broke" can't be mended,
So now there's the devil to pay.
For just how to spend all the money
Is puzzling the Council a lot;
John Crewes wants to buy the bears honey,
The other proposals are rot.^*

Chorus:
It will all come right in the future,
Though at present we cannot say when,
If all get their dues,
It's "Good-bye, Mr. Crewes,"
You will have to begin again.

There's a building (?) we call Lambton Station,
Where trains can come in by the score^†
It's an object of much admiration,
And measures quite twenty by four.
But Massey has promised us lately,
He'll steadily keep it in view,
He'll build us one splendid and stately
Of white stone from far Oamaru.

Chorus:
It will all come right in the future,
The Government blandly declares,
A station we'll get—
Though, of course not just yet,
But perhaps in a hundred years.

Jolly Students.

Air: "The Mermaid."

On a bleak ugly bank at the summit of the hill,
Looking proudly down on the sea,
Where the winds are a' blowing, when the town is warm and still,
Stands the pile that is dearest to me, to me, to me,
Stands the Pile that is dearest to me.

Chorus.
While the winter moon shines soft,
Or the raging winds do blow,
And we jolly students all a-swatting up aloft,
And the plebes are a-sleeping down below, below, below,
And the plebes are a-sleeping down below.

There is learning to spare to be taken if you will,
There is play enough for all;
Of Arts, Law, or Science, we can take our mental fill,
Then retire to the joys of bat or ball, or ball, or ball,
Then retire to the joy's of bat or ball.

There are swats who with work lying heavy on their soul
Take the Coll. for a glorified school;
There are savages in hundreds who will speed the flowing bowl,
While the swats are a-swatting up a rule, a rule, a rule,
While the swats are a-swatting up a rule.

Then join, join with me in a merry, merry lay,
To the Coll. enshrined in our heart,
To the mem'ries of works of acquaintance and of play,
To the day, far away, that we must part, must part, must part,
To the day, far away, that we must part.

So here's to the friends that at College we have made,
And here's to the faces we have missed;
And here's to the pastimes that at College we have played,
And here's to the girls that we have kissed, have kissed, have kissed.
And here's to the girls that we have kissed.

"Yes, but the girls at College are not what they used to be "—From an affidavit by Percy, in "Picken v. Students' Association."

Chorus.

Suff. We hope we do not shock
Our late converted flock
By changing our opinions in a way they'll think suspicious.

Men. Nor would we have you think
That we would ever sink
From our high state of liberty to thraldom, though delicious

Both. For we've been recollecting past delights
Up at Kelburne on those moonlit winter nights.

Chorus. When we used to saunter down the rugged hill
From the gaieties of far off Salamanca
For of these in by-gone days we had our fill,
In Atlantis for such joys we never hanker
Our hopes we anchor
To this fair land,
Here the Chancellorie speech is never long,
Years ago, just like the brook, it never ended.
The women here are never in the wrong,
And they act as sensibly as once the men did,
They're simply splendid.
They're really grand.

Suff. We cast aside the past,
We knew it could not last,
To take our former status we've been easily persuaded.

Men. So let us now rejoice,
There's wisdom in their choice.
Our ancient air of deep content
Atlantis lias pervaded.

Both. Sir Robert meditates on students' ways
And their couduct in those ruby tinted days.

Chorus.

Final Chorus.

Air; "The Old Brigade."

Just one stave more and the song is doue—
A stave for the olden time:
One age has passed, and the age to come
Is the age of the golden prime!
So praise we the men who have passed away.
Who hold to a legend bold—
Whatever a sordid world may say,
Wisdom is more than gold.

Chorus:
So when we are singing of College,
Singing the songs of old,
Think of the past,
Hold to the last,
That it's wisdom that's more than gold!

For this is the burthen of the world,
Which it speaketh day by day,
Though many a worldly lip be curled
With a sneer that it does not pay;
In our ears is the voice of a Mammon age,
In our hearts is a tale that's old.
The tale of our garnered heritage—
The Wisdom that's more than gold!

I don't suppose we'll do it again for months and months and months.