If thou deal with a hand that is slack,
Thy life, thou shalt see, pale on the rack;
If thou choose to live in vain,
Thy reward, then, shalt be to live and die in pain.
Arise, my friend! work, and pave the way;
In order for thee, not to waste away;
For, therefore, thou shall be fitted for cap and gown;
Men must hear thy shoes staccatos in town.
And then, thou shalt not be thy mother’s shame;
But thou, in deed, shalt have the praise of same;
Till thy land! and gold shalt come on the platter;
For then, thou shalt surely make a glad father.
The class of first is not served on platter of gold;
By dint of hard work only can the story be told;
Thy matrix need not insult the teachers;
To walk as first in the famed hall of Crowther.
Or, thinkest thou it’s for highest bidder;
At this Crowther school, we aren’t gold-diggers;
Be sane, and think not of such vanity;
Ours, always the thoughts of virile University
