Beasts

Beasts
694

At West Point they no longer haze the Plebes-they
drill them The thousand fiends of hazing have been
exercised from the Academy by all the curses of the red
tape and the gold braid The Great Red-tape Worm at the
National Capitol has unwound his million coils, edict has
followed manifesto and proclamation has followed edict,
with the result that the Yearlings eye the callow Freshmen
“beasts” as they are called during their first weeks of
preparation-hungrily; yet they dare not tear them to
pieces as of yore They stand like wolves about the
close- locked fold as the Plebes-poor, bleating beasta-come
flocking into Beast Barracks still clad in the wool of civilian life
“We can’t touch you, according to Regulations,” growl
the savage Yearlings softly, “but wait till we drill you-
just you wait!”

Hoo! Hoo!
You poor little zoo;
We won’t do a thing to you
But drill you Till we kill you!
Hep, hep, left-right-left!
Pull in your chin, there!
Turn out your toes, there!
Puff out your chest till it touches your nose, there!
Right face, left face!
One, two, three,
Mark time, double time-
Don’t watch me!
Drill from the crack of the first dawn light
Clear till the twinkling stars of night-
Gee-foot, haw-foot, Hay-foot,
straw-foot, Sore-foot, trot-foot,

Limber-leg and hot-foot
Bum, tick-a-tick-tac,
Bum-bum-bum!
(List to the music of the Hell Cats’ drum!)
Throw out your chest till your spine caves in;
Eyes to the front, there!
PULL IN YOUR CHIN!
You’ll be an officer of rank some day,
But now you’re a piker in the Military A

Come, ‘prentice-boy Generals, get in and drill!
Te-rumi-tum, tum! te-rumi-tum, tum!
Develop your talents and learn how to kill!
Te-rumi-tum, rumi-tum, tum!
Get into the notion of noble devotion,
Drink hearty of glory a liberal potion,
And soon you’ll be tagged for an army promotion-
Te-rumi-tum, rumi-tum, tum!

Don’t mope there like Socrates chewing the cud!
Huzza for the rattle of battle and blood-
First flower of our chivalry, just in the bud
Te-rumi-tum, rumi-tum, tum!

We’re turning out heroes so fearfully fast-
Te-rumi-tum, tum! te-rumi-tum, tuml
We’ve got Mr Bonaparte lashed to a mast,
Te-rumi-tum, rumi-tum, tum!
Our National Pater, he taught us to cater
To Eagles of War, that our land might be greater-
Our Eagles are hatched in Our Own Incubator
Te-rumi-tum, rumi-tum, tum!
We’re simply deliciously keen for a fray;
If Russians or Prussians defied us to-day
We’d show our brass buttons and scare ’em away
Te-rumi-tum, rumi-tum, tum!
We challenge the World at the point of a gun-
Te-rumi-tum, tum! te-rumi-tum, tuml
Just bring on the Foe-say a hundred to one
Te-rumi-tum, rumi-tum, tum!
To speak with all candor we think Alexander
Was rather a woozy old boozy commander-
Just wait till we’re out and we’ll show you some dander!
Te-rumi-tum, rumi-tum, tuml