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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (May 13, 1920)
THE BATTALION 5 «£««g»«£*«§**§«*£««§«*§»*§*«£*«£««£*«£*«§**£**g*«§««£**§«*§**£**£*«£**£«*£««£**£««£**§«*£»*§**§«*£««£«*£««§««§*«§*«£«*£**§*«§**§«*§*«§*«§*«§*«§»*2^ i f t i t. T i ! i X I 1 T I ± X NEW SPRING SUITS For Young Men Come in and let us show you through our large stock. You’ll see the newest and smartest spring styles for young men in single and double breasted models with or without belts, made by such famous makers as Hart Schaffner <S^ Marx and Society Brand and priced much lower than you would pay in the larger towns. New Spring Suits at $35, $40, $50 NEW SPRING SHIRTS. In a wonderful collection of new spring and summer patterns in mad ras, pongee, silk stripes, fibers and pure silks. $3.00, $4.00, $5 up to $15.00 NEW SPRING HATS. Felts or straws in the smartest spring and summer styles. All shapes and colors to choose from. $5.00, $6.00, $7.50 New spring neckwear, silk and lisle half-hose, light weight underwear, caps, oxfords, etc. A. M. Waldrop & Co. THE STORE FOR YOUNG MEN THE EVOLUTION OF FISH TWENTY-THREE When you was a “Sophie” and I was a “Fish” To do or die as bid. And you tanned my hide with a board so wide For something I never did; When I wandered with eery chills and creeps Thru many a dismal hall My heart was sore at the Sopho more I cursed them one and all. Till I dared to dream of the coming gleam Of a two week’s holiday. But the space was short and quick ly sped And I came back again To come and go at “yes” or “no” And wear the ball and chain. Oh! what terrible weeks were these When nothing youil heart could reach. When never was thought to my mem’ry brought And never an uttered speech. Tostmasters there were none You got in wrong, I’ve heard the song “SACKHOLDERS EVERYONE.” I did not howl o’er the misty plain When I saw you rend your hair But I spread my sail like a beaver’s tail And drank the morning air. The Juniors whooped and rockei with mirth As you fought your losing fight, But Mr. Nitch put never a stitch In the sacks you held that night. I am longing for my college, Where all boys are just the same: For its old-time pep and vigor That has helped to make its name. I can see the old Main building That I knew so well of yore; I can see the others also, With the name upon each door. Yes, a year or more at college. With its trials and its woe, Is the dream of my sad spirit. And to college I shall go. I could not drink, I could not think But what you butted in, I longed for the day when I could say And do as other men. The time wore on with night and dawn, I hung my flag to the breeze Then dined on mush and lost my “cush” Till your stomach was ill at ease. My heart beat quick as I dumped your bed And ran when I saw it fall, To stand at ease with shaking knees Till I heard your raucous call. Stealing along when the lights were out, I wrote things on your door. When I came to find what was on your mind I rued it ever more. You lived a happy, a carefree life I lived as best I might, In a court-room dark with never a spark Except by a Mazda light. The long weeks came, the long weeks fled The long weeks sped away, Thus day by day and night by night I learned of the days of yore When the Junior brained or liter ally rained His clubs on the Sophomore. I learned that the Fish reclined at will In the tall and uncut brush And dared not smoke till the morn ing broke On the mystic, moonless hush. My legs grew strong and my body light, Great wings grew on my feet. I mustered force and planned a course Where the grass and sunlight meet. I went by night and slept by day Till the stars and moon turned green. Across the plains and returned again With a zest and a smile serene. You went by night in a limousine You fettered the roads and streets The Junior’s life was a living strife To conquer your daring feats. You shook the brush you seined the creek All this has passed in days gone by And the Slimes of twenty-three Now blend their feet with the ankles neat In the joys of the great R. V. My soul was couched in a life of toil My trail on the sand is wide That future years may share my fears, Is a wish to the May day tide. But as we linger, the flying days That hold us to our task, Lest we forget the trails we met We’ll brand them on our mask That the slippery “scalies” of twenty-four May know how the dies were cast When you were a “Sophie” and I was a “Fish”, In the days that now have passed. ’23 HOMSICK Ship me south of Bryan, Texas, And just a little east; Where the boys all dress in khaki, From the greatest to the least. Let me drill among the kaydets At old A. and M. once more, And I’ll never ask to travel Anyways from Boyett’s store. I have strayed away from home, boys, But I long now to return; I’m an “Aggie” pure and simple And for A. and M. I yearn. I love that dear old college With its corps of growing men; I love the college campus From the hog barn to the gym. And, speaking metaphoric, I’ll grow fat on Sbisa’s grub, Even though, from indigestion, All my joints begin to rub. I like the college courses, And the college atmosphere; And I like the college spirit. For it always spreads good cheer. So I’m coming back for next year And I’m coming good and strong-. With a pocket void of money. But a head that’s full of song. I have been a Wandering Jew, boys. And I’ve travelled ’most to Hell, But my wanderings will be ended When I hear that “Wildcat Yell” So just tell old C. E. Friley When you answer his next call That I’m going to be a kaydet At old A. and M. next fall.