Musa Burschicosa A Book of Songs for Students and University Men. By John Stuart Blackie |
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ANDREW JACK, M.D.
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 | Musa Burschicosa |  |
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ANDREW JACK, M.D.
A Farewell Song.
Farewell to the University!
I'm titled now with high degree;
All capped and doctor'd forth I ride,
To see the world's great pomp and pride!
I'm titled now with high degree;
All capped and doctor'd forth I ride,
To see the world's great pomp and pride!
Four years I've drudged, a patient hack,
With whip and driver at my back;
But now unmuzzled I propose
To track the game with my own nose.
With whip and driver at my back;
But now unmuzzled I propose
To track the game with my own nose.
The wide, wide world before me lies,
With many a blank, and many a prize;
But crowns are nowhere gained by sighs;
He nobly wins who boldly tries.
With many a blank, and many a prize;
But crowns are nowhere gained by sighs;
He nobly wins who boldly tries.
What made the Romans men of might
But wars to wage and foes to fight?
Then let us fight like them, and win!
Or, if we lose—bad luck's no sin!
But wars to wage and foes to fight?
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Or, if we lose—bad luck's no sin!
Farewell grey hall and fusty book,
And front severe and solemn look;
Long rows of lectures dull and dry,
In mummied state there let them lie!
And front severe and solemn look;
Long rows of lectures dull and dry,
In mummied state there let them lie!
Farewell, proud Arthur's Seat, where oft
With buoyant heart I stood aloft,
And through the broad sun's crimson glow,
Looked on the old grey town below,
With buoyant heart I stood aloft,
And through the broad sun's crimson glow,
Looked on the old grey town below,
And spied afar the huge, huge Bens
That gird our peaceful Highland Glens,
Where birches nod, and fountains pour
On ferny brae and pebbly shore.
That gird our peaceful Highland Glens,
Where birches nod, and fountains pour
On ferny brae and pebbly shore.
And fare-thee-well, my student's home,
Far up near to the starry dome,
'Mid wreaths of smoke, and bristling crops
Of gables gaunt and chimney-tops!
Far up near to the starry dome,
'Mid wreaths of smoke, and bristling crops
Of gables gaunt and chimney-tops!
And fare-thee-well, good dame M'Knight,
Who kept me always right and tight,
And washed my clothes and brushed my hat;
God bless you, honest dame, for that!
Who kept me always right and tight,
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God bless you, honest dame, for that!
And farewell, Nelly M'Intyre,
Who smoothed my bed and trimmed my fire,
Blue-eyed, blithe-hearted, bright-soul'd Nell;
By Jove, I loved that girl too well!
Who smoothed my bed and trimmed my fire,
Blue-eyed, blithe-hearted, bright-soul'd Nell;
By Jove, I loved that girl too well!
Dear blue-eyed Nell, when Dame M'Knight
Called, ‘Come up, Nell, and put things right!’
And thou shot up with three light skips,
My heart leapt to my finger-tips.
Called, ‘Come up, Nell, and put things right!’
And thou shot up with three light skips,
My heart leapt to my finger-tips.
No courier of the heavenly clans,
With light blue scarf and silver vans,
Could witch my eye like view of Nell;
By Jove, I loved that girl too well!
With light blue scarf and silver vans,
Could witch my eye like view of Nell;
By Jove, I loved that girl too well!
But love is not a bond to bind
The full-blown sail that takes the wind;
A fair face marred Mark Antony;
So, Nell, I'll think no more of thee!
The full-blown sail that takes the wind;
A fair face marred Mark Antony;
So, Nell, I'll think no more of thee!
Farewell, my comrades and my chums,
With whom I picked dry learning's crumbs,
And quaffed, four green and golden years,
Life's mingled bowl of hopes and fears.
With whom I picked dry learning's crumbs,
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Life's mingled bowl of hopes and fears.
God bless you all, my jolly boys!
The day is past to play with toys;
I go to fight my way,—and you,
Do well what thing you find to do!
The day is past to play with toys;
I go to fight my way,—and you,
Do well what thing you find to do!
I hear the railway whistle call,
And brush the briny drops that fall;
I leave you now plain Andrew Jack,
Perhaps I'll come Sir Andrew back!
And brush the briny drops that fall;
I leave you now plain Andrew Jack,
Perhaps I'll come Sir Andrew back!
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