My dear Cambridge,
You have pulled it off,
As all men know.
This ode
Will make Oxford pretty sick;
But the spoils are to the victor.
If Oxford had rowed better
And won,
They should have had a nice new ode,
Like good boys;
But they have been and gone and lost,
And are, therefore,
Not fit subjects
For immortal verse.
Pah!
I pass by Oxford!
As for you, dear Cambridge,
Here's to you:
In spite of your long and honourable connection
With the manufacture
Of sossiges,
There appears to be something in you,
Which is more than can be said
For some of the sossiges.
Cambridge, my own,
You have won the bowt rice!
'Ave a drink!
What is the good of winning the bowt rice,
If you don't 'ave a drink?
I don't know,
And I'm sure you don't.
Also, what is the good
Of winning the bowt rice
At all?
I give it up.
Yes, I do really;
Please do let me give it up.
You have won;
You can afford to be generous;
Suffer me to indulge my little whim:
There is no good
In winning the bowt rice, Cambridge
No good at all.
On the other hand,
When I come to think of it
I am not quite sure
That to have rowed
In the Cambridge boat
Which won the bowt rice,
Is materially to have damaged
One's prospects or career:
At the very least, it makes one safe
For a tutor's job
At '80 per annum;
And what self-respecting person from Cambridge
Could wish for more?
I have heard of a man
Who rowed
In a winning Cambridge boat
And is now driving
A hansom cab.
And I have heard of another man
Who omitted to row
In a winning Cambridge boat
And is now driving a four-wheeler.
You see the difference, of course!
After all,
To row
In a winning Cambridge boat
Does give one
A sort of start in life,
And don't you forget it.
Always remember, my dear Cambridge, who you are.
You licked Oxford by five lengths
In 1902.
This is probably
All you will get
For your father's money.
Be thankful.