Judge — May 20, 1922 — page 22: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

se The Overflow of the College Wits Drawn by Jess HoKe, Univ. of Oklahoma Decoy for Squirrel. ALONG WITH THE GREAT AUK AC SORDING to the funny papers, pro- fessors as a tribe are notorious! sent-minded. I searched the university fo the typical professor—the kind that’ fc gets to don a necktie in the morning, that sometimes forgets his own name, that for- gets to go to his classes, and even may forget that he is alive. Last term I reached my Mecca. He forgot everything and then some more, even to forgetting what his own course was about. Thought I: “Her where I escape the inevitable ‘F,’ as he forget how dumb [ am.” But woe is me He didn’t forget that I overcut his lecture O. L. Clarkson, Cornell A PIPPIN PIPPA'S such a stupid girl; Yet, though not good in classes, She takes a book to her exams, And therefore Pippa_pass' Joe Earnest, . of Texas *23. Drawn by Henman X. VAN Cort, Yale Comfortable Freshman—Now, Gene- vieve, be candid. When do you want me to go? Genevieve (greatly bored)—It’s a couple of hours too late for that, Archie! TER-R-R-R-IBLE! THEY met on the bridge at midnight; They will never meet again For one was an eastbound heifer, The other a westbound train. Ray Law, Stanford "23. Her Method Now Trix McMix is wondrous wise— She captures all the men; and hark! Her method, old, still takes the prize: She always keeps them in the dark. . M. Coon, Cornell '25. Novelties Loop--Well, what's new under the sun? Hound—Three new Ford accessories, a parlor game, a patented curling iron, a novelty bazoo, and, strangely enough, they've introduced a different line of drugs. H. B. Rorke, Stanford ’ HAIL, COLUMBIA! (With another hail to Walt Mason) By Roy B. Miller, Cornell '24 "THIS stately realm once earned applause from all the countryside. The honest natives worked their jaws with whiskered joy and pride. They toasted her in demi- johns, in glasses and in jugs. Breathes now the man who vums and swans among these modern thugs? Those haleyon days are gone for aye, eclipsed in moss and wee No more the yokel dons array bestrewn with straws and seeds. The gaffer’s son is now a dude with all the gangster’s tricks, no more to be en- ticed and wooed with lure of gilded bricks. What wonder if the city crook has lost his olden fame—his honored ways and pride forsook, his cheek suffused with shame? Time was—-and not so long erstwhile when each one knew his class; when gentle folk would walk a mile to save their neigh- bor’s grass; when wives would answer hail and beck to please their gallant lord; when office boys would break a neck to move with glad accord; when servants spoke from bended knees and bowed the modest back; when toilers grubbed for honest fees and loafers got the sack; when teachers taught the Golden Rule and tanned the learner's seat; when barefoot minions splashed the pool and rich men trod the street. Now times have come to such a pass that joy has fled the earth. The patriot cries alack, alas; and damns his hour of birth. The bars have been too long let down, the cows are in the corn, the castle opes to boor and clown without a sneer of scorn. Elite is now a word unknown or mea the same as mob. The rabble smear the gentry’s throne with miry clod and gob. A duke may be of noble birth or just a newly rich. The bars have fallen with a thud; distine- tion paves the ditch. The poor have shed their overalls, their burlaps and their jeans: base scullions loll in lordly halls, their daughters herd with queens. While things go on in such a shape hark not for scund of cheers—for this we wear our mourning crape as much as for our beers. In bygone days but little pelf suf- ficed our humble needs. With bread and bacon on the shelf, who pined for kingly feeds? When frosty winter hove in sight, the dub with lack of kale would break a banker's window-light and win a berth in jail. But now the way he turns the trick has nothing to commend; he turns into a Bolshevik to gain his sordid end. A burgher scarce can take his clubs and in his knickered pants resort to golf with other dubs without this awful chance: you never know what sort of rank your fellow man may hold; mayhap he owns a vaulted bank—or not an ounce of gold. What though he sl tips the wink and taps his bulging hip? Belike the friendly offered drink will prove the hand- cuff’s nip. Ah, me, the proudly-soar- ing fowl may well abate his scream when liege and vi sal cheek by jowl thus swig the nation’s cream. It hangs my soul by both its thumbs, it throws me into faints, to give my country up. to bums, to mutts and crooked saints! THE FIRST CO-ED! By Leland G. Stanford, Stanford '24 THE tale is a sad one, as sad as you've heard. I'll truly admit that it sounds quite absurd, { But all of this happened in times long ago, When Earth was infested with monsters | that grow To mountainous sizes, then bend to the 4 ground, ] To swallow the humans that happen around | When Venus de Milo of fabled renown, | Was wooed by a certain young man of her town, She answered him warmly, and hearing them speak i The neighbors guessed marriage inside of ; a week. | But one quiet evening while taking a walk, — | They stopped by « fountain to have a nice talk, She gave him her promise, but, lo, at their heel, A vicious old monster came tracking his meal! -THAT Geonoe mealizes row THE PIASY vime THAT COLLEGE Eovca: HELO one's ESENCE we mine She Drawn by CARROLL WILLIAMS, Univ. of Texas vs Frep Fistiea, Stanford Universicy FOXED! (Apologies to Fontaine Fox). George calls on his corpulent friend. They play blind man’s buff, and the result is— He roared as he spied them. (A tidbit, in- deed! But due to poor eyesight—perhaps to his speed, He missed their location, and making a whirl, Just swallowed the lover—and arms of the girl lis place, le: ly wandered away from the And soon dropped from sight in the hurry- ing race; But yet there's a moral—for co-eds who can, Don't ever be hasty in loving your man! Fowl Play. comicbooks.com