"Come down, O battels, from this giddy height.
What pleasure lives in height? (the student sang.)"
Come tell me, Junior Bursar, do,
How can these items all be true?
Five bob for beer, when I've had none!
My scout must be the lucky one.
You've charged me for desserts in Hall
When I've had no desserts at all;
For when they ask, I always say,
"O take the nasty sweets away."
For baths I'm muleted two and two
(I'll give up bathing P. D. Q.);
One thing is very plain to me,
I'll soon have no more L. S. D.
To Hall I hardly ever go,
I quail no drink but H2O,
For tea I have a penny bun,
Yet battels come to three pounds one.
If I had Mr. Belloc's ski
I'd make you blush for such a bill;
It really needs a Balliol scribe
To write a fitting diatribe.
I've said enough: from first to last
I am not an iconoclast,
But (if it will not cause you pain)
I wish you kindly would explain.