Hey, out there!—assistant professors, full,
I have a sing to shay.
We are assembled here in the capital
city for Dull—and one professor’s wife is Mary—
at Christmastide, hey!
and all of you did theses or are doing
and the moral history of what we were up to
thrives in Sir Wilson’s hands—
who I don’t see here—only deals go screwing
some of you out, some up—the chairmen too
are nervous, little friends—
a chairman’s not a chairman, son, forever,
and hurts with his appointments; ha, but circle—
take my word for it—
though maybe Frost is dying—around Mary;
forget your footnotes on the old gentleman;
dance around Mary.