If seven D’s or seven C’s We give to all the crowd, Do you suppose,” the Vulture said, “That we could get them ploughed?” “I think so,” said the Husbandman, ‘But, pray, don’t talk so loud.’ “O undergraduates, come up!” The Vulture did beseech, “And let us see if you can learn As well as we can teach. We cannot do with more than two, To have a word with each.” Two undergraduates came up, And slowly took a seat, They knit their brows and bit their thumbs As if they found them sweet; And this was odd, because, you know, Thumbs are not good to eat. “The time has come,” the Vulture said “To talk of many things, Of accidence and adjectives, And names of Jewish kings, How many notes a sackbut has, And whether shawns have strings.” “Please sir,” the undergraduates said Turning a little blue, “We did not know that was the sort Of thing we had to do.” “We thank you much,” the Vulture said, “Send up another two.” Two more came up, and then two more And more, and more, and more, And some looked upwards at the roof Some down upon the floor; But none were any wiser than The pair that went before. “I weep for you,” the Vulture said “I deeply sympathize;” With sobs and tears he gave them all D’s of the largest size, While at the Husbandman he winked One of his streaming eyes. “I think,” observed the Husbandman, “We’re getting on too quick, Are we not putting down the D’s A little bit too thick?” The Vulture said, with much disgust, “Their answers make me sick!” “Now, undergraduates,” he cried, “Our fun is nearly done, Will anybody else come up?” But answer came there none, And this was scarcely odd, because They’d ploughed them every one. _The Light Green._ Cambridge, 1872. ―――― THE NYUM――NYUM. The Nyum Nyum chortled by the sea, And sipped the wavelets green: He wondered how the sky could be So very nice and clean; He wondered if the chamber-maid Had swept the dust away, And if the scrumptious Jabberwock Had mopped it up that day. And then in sadness to his love The Nyum Nyum weeping said, I know no reason why the sea Should not be white or red. I know no reason why the sea Should not be red, I say; And why the slithy Bandersnatch Has not been round to-day. He swore he’d call at two o’clock. And now its half-past four. “Stay,” said the Nyum Nyum’s love, “I think I hear him at the door.”