1944

It's Christmas time ho, ho, ho, Swing wide the doors, here we go. Open the dampers, light up the Yules, Welcome the ladies, our special jewels. There are the bowls, here the wassails, Raise a glass to all the fossils Of the class of Forty-four At sixty-one and even more. Few are, most not, over the hill, No doubt about Jim Averill. Nothing there beyond the pale, Check the profile Ezra Hale. See the Baileys, Larry and Ed, Looking dined and finely fed. Nothing there that's lying fallow, Not with Betty and John Callow. Mark you there on nimble feet The dancing, prancing Richard Sweet. Blow the horn, sound the clarion, Lots of noise for big Bill Marion. Up from Woods Hole, there, by crackus, Oceanographer Richard Backus. Here's a fellow warmly sent From Arizona, George B. Kent. There's a figure to be seen, Belongs, of course, to Tommy Breen. Not to wait, not to tarry, Man the decks for Joseph Garry. Songs and dances, lots of larks, For Ave and Jim and other Clarks; Rog and Wendel, and then there's Marshal, Wearing the Green, of course one's partial. Ah, here's where it all beginses, With who else but the Eugene Zinses. Praise we be for mare-zee-dotes, And a welcome, too, for Donald Oakes. Back from Saudi, Sydney Bowers, A large bouquet for Larry Flowers. Don't fret, don't stew, don't be fussy, Nuzzle up to Doctor Mussey. There he is, the old non-plusser, None other than Karl Rowley Musser. A Hogan's hero, that's our Ralph, A Bogan, sirs, by more than 'alf. Open an aisle there, if you please, For the lowan form of William Trease. No longer down along the Hudson, A Texan now is David Judson. Hello, hello to the Wall Street beater, The old Dow Joneser, Tommy Streeter. Oh, the girls there, all a-twitter At the sight of Larry Ritter. And the same about the face Of New England's Bunny Sayce. Monte Basbas, there's Hiz Honor Sashaying in with Johnny Connor. Treat him nice, be a sweetie, He's a dandy, is Buzz Beattie. Electricity's dim? Light up the Coleman, Share the glow with Carroll Holman. It's time, no doubt, for jumps and jollies, Bumps and grinds with the Daniel Holleys. Get to the stoves, simmer the boneses, A tasty soup for all the Joneses; Ben and Becket, both from Mass., Paul and Dick, of great pizzazz: Sauces and smells and even yogurt For them that are Skai and Bogie Bogart. Umm, the salad, check the chives Puckering the lips of George S. Ives. Pour the wine, here's the claret, Pass a sip to Allen Barrett. Check the aroma from the vines For Hal and Gerry and all the Steins. Toast the Craigs, Bill and Liz, An amber glass with lots of fizz. Raise a tankard, down the sluice, Let's hear it loud for friend George Bruce. Have a brew, but don't be lurchy, Slap the back of old Dick Murchie. Don't say no, never say can't, Smack your lips with Bucky Brandt. Here's a bon-bon, pass the snacks, Share a plate with the Charlie Jacks. Here's champagne, nothing impecunious About Prof. Hoffman, Arizona's Junius. You must be wrong, that warn't no belch From either Budd or Sperky Welch.

Oh, turn down the lights and lessen the noise, The year's at an end for all of the boys. And their ladies, in slacks or dresses; Hug them and love them. That's it. And blesses.

304 Parkhurst Hall Hanover, NH 03755