LEWIS PARKHURST

Of the tribe of eight and seventy Came the warrior Lewis Parkhurst. Careful to preserve his sheepskin That the wise men gave unto him As a certificate of merit, From the wild beasts of the forest, From the ravage of the weather, Cautiously he journeyed southward Pausing but to give instruction To the young braves of the village How to write upon the birch tree, How to read the injun writing, In return for food and shelter And a modicum of wampum, Till upon the Aberjona On the banks of the sweet river He an end made to his journey And erected there his wigwam. Long he's hunted in these forests Long he's fished among these waters Till the deerskin of his wigwam Bulges wide with all his trophies. Not because his years of labor Finally gave time for leisure, But because his heart was yearning For the tepees of old Dartmouth Gave he of his love the deepest, Gave he of his gifts the choicest. At the corner of our campus Built a beautiful memorial Wrought with tender dedication; Gave to us our finest tepee Where to hold the council meetings; Where the great physician, Laycock, Might with greater skill and wisdom Heal the cuts and bind the bruises That the elders have inflicted Upon all the erring warriors; Where our Sachem, Ernest Hopkins, And the wise men who surround him Might unto their work add comfort And a daily inspiration. Not his gifts alone endear him Not his generous gifts of wampum But as well his trusted counsel, Given with a consecration To the welfare of the college That by none has been exceeded. And we bless and love him for it. Wah Hoo Wahs arise I bid you! Honor to our loyal tribesman, To our friend and benefactor, To the warrior, Lewis Parkhurst.