THE BATTALION
8
THE NAVIGATORS
(Continued from Page 2)
Paul—Let’s go to Navvy Scotch
man!
Joe—No let’s stay home for a
change, I haven’t got any money.
Paul—That’s all right Joe I have
n’t got but a quarter myself; that’ll
buy us a bowl of chile a piece and
then think of all the fun we’ll have
with Doris and Louise and all that
bunch.
Joe—'Well, all right then we’ll go.
Say listen is Alex going too ?
Paul—I don’t know I haven’t ask
ed him.
Alex enters upon the scene, mak
ing sweet memories of a night in
heaven spent at Navvy the night
before.
Paul—(Loudly) Ah! Look what
I’ve got here Schotchman. I’ve got
me a little “Spik!” You old sun of
a gun....
Joe—Going with us to Navvy this
afternoon, Alex ?
Alex—What ? Going to dear old
Navvy again? Gosh I’ve got a lot
of experiments to write up men,
but mmmmmm well I guess I
wouln’t do any good If I stayed here,
I think I might as well go and see
my sweet little Babe; yes by Joe I
know I’m going. Are you ready?
Joe—Yes, but say what are we
gonna wear down there ?
Paul—Let’s wear cits, whatya say ?
Alex—Suits, and HOW?
Joe—I wonder where I can borrow
a good suit ?
Alex—Red’s got a good looking
blue suit he’ll let you wear.
Joe—He has? Fine. Let’s go up,
let me try it on.
The Three Navigators journey up
to room X. The Scotchman Joe with
the borrowed navy blue attire on
gazes upon the mirror and sights
with much self-satisfaction of the
hour when Doris would see his
newly acquired suit. They then pro
ceed to their respective mansions
undergoing a metamorphosis that
prepared them to give our southern
neighbors a royal treat.
A shrill whistle was heard—the
southbound freight was waiting. Our
heros ruch forward and soon after
wards the shadows of Aggieland are
bidding God-speed to the three val
ient cavaliers on board of the dis
appearing freight dragging a cloud
of dust on its trail.
Three Artillerymen make good.
CURTAIN.
TO AGGIELAND.
Let’s have a toast, my comrades,
We’ve toiled the long year through.
Think of the things we’ve seen and
done
And the things we’d like to do.
We’ve been through battles, ole Ar
my,
We’ve fought a clean hard fight,
Let’s split a bottle between us
And fight them over tonight.
Think of the times, old army.
We’ve grabbed our ankles and grin
ned
And come up smiling after it all
With a bloodshot battered end.
Think of the times, ole comrades,
You’ve wakened to reveille.
Those hated notes of a bugle
That meant another day.
Think of the times, ole army.
That you have stood retreat,
And then the dying notes of tap*
Lulled you off to sleep.
You’ve heard those same taps, army
Through silvery bugles blown,
And your heart went out to a com
rade.
Who at last had been called home.
There are tears in your eyes, old
army.
But tears you do not regret.
Those are not baby or womanly
tears
That make your cheeks so wet.
It’s a pouring out of your soul, ar
my,
For a school you love so well
And you’d fight for it to the end,
army,
Though it meant everlasting hell.
So then have a toast, ole army.
For “the school we think so grand”
It’s bred in us, it can never die—
The Spirit of Aggieland.
—Fitzpatrick.
She sun never sets
on Chesterfields popularity /
Globe trotters”, we can imagine Dr. Freud as
saying/'are people whose nurses dropped them
onto an escalator in early childhood. They buy
a sun helmet, a guide book, and a first-class
passage to the Pyramids, and are never heard
from again.”
Nevertheless, the most confirmed voyageur
owns to a thrill at finding a carton of
Chesterfields in a tiny cafe on the Left Bank,
or a package of the same on a card table at
the Army Club at Simla, or on meeting an Arab
camel-boy whose only English is”Sooch popular
mos’ be desarve!”
For Chesterfield’s popularity never saw a sun
set ; travel as far as you will, this cigarette will
always be somewhere ahead, ready to bring
good taste and good tobacco home to you.
Such popularity must be deserved—and it IS!
Ch ester.fi eld
MILD enough for anybody. . and yef..THEY SATISFY
LIGGETT & MYERS TOBACCO CO.