Hail Harvard, to thy proud tradition,
to thy unspeakable tuition,
which price I paid that it might yield
a future in my chosen field;

though now too late I've come to see
you cannot eat a PhD.
Still, I'll hold dear thy memories,
while working here at Mickey D's.

History
 

Alma Mater, Sønderskole,
Frederiksgade four 0 three.
Safe again to be a school
Fifty children, just like me,
Started classes A and B,
When the school again was free,
All the refugees were gone,
And of soldiers there were none.

Frøken Rønnow, small and wizened,
Like a cork on little feet,
Taught us cursive obsolete.
In class B we worked and listened,
And we also learned to read.
Five and twenty little kids
Full of fun and of excitement,
Though occasionally bored.

We had no idea the basement
Was where weapons had been stored.
For the first year in class B,
We cavorted happily,
Five and twenty little kids,
Right on top of high explosives,
Hoards of guns and hand grenades
That could blast us all to bits.


Frederiksgade in Danish has four syllables: Freth'riks gath eh.

Embroidered on my underwear,
my tea-shirts and my socks,
boldface on my bumper sticker:
"Proud Grad of Hard Knocks."

It left me wiser than an owl,
more clever than a fox.
I bagged a double doctorate
cum laude from Hard Knocks.

Some say that Cambridge is the best,
some say that Oxford rocks,
but they can't hold a candle to
the College of Hard Knocks.

Bring me all your Harvard men
and I will clean their clocks
so someday they can also claim
"I studied at Hard Knocks."

Here goes
 

Dunno about this, but it's a start:

No. 2642: Alma Mater


A friendly modern campus crowns
A hummock on the Sussex Downs,
Announcing to the elements
The genius of Basil Spence.

Here values, methods and ideas
Were not arranged in handy tiers
As on a supermarket shelf.
You had to educate yourself.

Debates continued out of class
In wine-flown sessions on the grass,
Contesting with amused intent
What Mao or Marcuse meant.

That was the sixties, age of hope
(And gesture politics and dope),
When Sussex struck the living spark
That lights my fire now times are dark.

Bazza, may I say that I think that is rather beautiful.

Thank you, John. I'm not ashamed of it. In fact, a couple of tweaks & I think I'll mail it off. I generally pride myself on being a satirist, but I had to be honest here & give Sussex its due.

Thanks John for the kind comments, I emended slightly, and don't think Lucy will have too much trouble with the Latin.

Alma Mater

Gaudeamus igitur,
thy ivy-clinging walls endure,
perhaps it’s well they do not speak
for we learnt more than ancient Greek.

We miss the canings that we got
and fantasize on them a lot,
and on the girls we met in class
ut sperno nostrum societas

Had it not been for thy gays
vivant omnes virgines.
Post jacundam juventutem
our minds are marked ad senectutem.

Alma Mater floreat!
Thanks to thee the truth is that
in many things we have excelled
but not until we were expelled.

Nice one, Jim.Good Luck! And here's another, just before the midday deadline.

Alma Mater

A clash of hockey sticks, a clash
Of temperaments, a torrid pash
For Emmeline the prefect who
Once definitely smiled at you,
A word of praise from Miss Divine,
A midnight feast with currant wine
(A ciggie takes the taste away)
A nasty tummy ache next day,
A bike-ride and a horrid prang,
An assignation with the gang,
Baba, Linda, Dorcas, Dolly,
All your friends, so very jolly,
All your friends,such utter bricks,
The Sisterhood of Study Six,
Sharing secrets with the breeze
Underneath the chestnut trees.