HIS SUBJECT
[The “Tailor and Cutter” suggests that a sartorial professor be appointed at Oxford, and correct dressing taught as a regular subject.]
Oh, I’m not what you’d call a ripe scholar.
At Latin, I own, I don’t shine.
While Greek merely rouses my choler,
It’s not my particular line;
I can’t understand mathematics,
Their beauty I quite fail to see.
Whether simple addition or statics;
But I fancy I’ll get my degree.
I quaff the convivial pewter,
Play cricket, and go to the boats.
When I go—once a term—to my tutor,
I seldom, if ever, take notes.
Then, of course, there is Bridge after dinner—
We play from eight-thirty till three.
(I’m a very occasional winner).
But I fancy I’ll get my degree.
My tailor is pressing for payment—
I tear up his bills with a sigh—
And meanwhile, in beautiful raiment,
I stroll in the Broad and the High.
In that line, I don’t mind confessing,
There has never been much wrong with me.
If a fellow can do it by dressing,
I fancy I’ll get my degree.
For, if I’m but garbed as is proper,
If I don’t wear a “bowler” with tails,
If my notion of sporting a “topper”
With praise the examiner hails,
If there’s nothing much wrong with my trousers,
If my waistcoat is all it should be,
I shall not stand a chance of a plough, sirs.
Yes, I fancy I’ll get my degree.