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Show COLLEGIATE LIFE <br><br> WHY JACK IS SO ANXIOUS TO COLLECT DUES. <br> The hour of ten has long since passed, <br> The new days has begun, <br> And yet he sits with a haunted stare <br> His hand upon a gun. <br><br> You ask me why he looks so pale, <br> So wasted and so thin, <br> And why his pipe has long ago <br> Dropped down upon his chin? <br><br> If you wish to hear of this frenzied man <br> From whom all hope is gone <br> Who never again expects to see <br> The coming of the dawn. <br><br> Then sit ye down upon this bench <br> and I will try to tell <br> You how this wasted rotting form <br> Has lived a living hell. <br><br> His name is Jack, I see you start, <br> Yet what I say is true. <br> Two weeks ago, or maybe more, <br> He was as well as you. <br><br> He sat upon this very bench <br> His pipe within his hand, <br> A-dreaming of some pretty girl, <br> Or of another land- <br><br> When all at once there came a knock <br> So heavy and so strong, <br> That it nearly knocked the door from <br> The hinges where it hung. <br><br> Jack quickly leaped from off the bench <br> And op'ed the door wide- <br> To meet a bony skeleton Upon the other side. <br><br> The skeleton-his name was "Dues," <br> He had a hauntingstare, <br> His voice was cold, and grim and fierce <br> As that of a dungeon bare. <br><br> He then did speak, in awful voice, <br> And clanked a heavy chain, <br> "You must collect those dues," he said, <br> "Or I will come again." <br><br> "At half-past twelve on every night <br> I'll come and see you here. <br> I'll haunt you till your very hair <br> Turns white and gray with fear." <br><br> "Until your flesh is cold and hard <br> And creeps upon your back; <br> Until you cannot breathe or speak, <br> And all your bones do crack." <br> [Continues on next page.] <br><br> |
