A PUFF POETICAL.

LISTEN, listen, all ye Freshmen,

While in rhyme I tell you truly

What befell one of your number,

Patrick James Augustus Dooley.

Freshman, and quite green in Cambridge,

Prudence, undeveloped organ,

Dooley went to general table,

Kept by kindly Mrs. M-rg-n.

Here there was a peerless waitress,

Fairest she in all these diggin's;

Do you ask me what they called her?

Sarah Ann Eliza Higgins.

Soon she fixed her eye on Patrick,

Poor impressionable fool he,

And the maiden's fascinations

Played the very deuce with Dooley.

When she served the soup she'd snigger,

At the fish she'd press his shoulder,

At the roast he'd press her figger,

With the pie he grew still bolder.

When he'd got to love her madly,

Grown to be a desperate case, he

Met her walking with a Soph'more,

Frederick Altamont Fitz-Lacy.

With a shriek of "Give me poison!"

He ransacks his corner cupboards,

Finding naught but beer and ink there,

Frenzied, rushes out to Hubbard's.

Fainting, weak, he gains the counter,

Where he quaffs a sparkling mixture,

While he cries with exultation,

"False Eliza Ann, I've fixed yer."

Ask you why Augustus Dooley

Rose superior to his bothers?

'Cause he swallowed a yeast powder

Manufactured by Twin Brothers.

MORAL.

Gentle reader, use no other;

It's efficient, it is cheap, it

Saves your labor and your money,

And all first-class druggists keep it.