A Song For The Centennial Celebration Of Harvard College, 1836

When the Puritans came over     Our hills and swamps to clear,     The woods were full of catamounts,     And Indians red as deer,     With tomahawks and scalping-knives,     That make folks' heads look queer;     Oh the ship from England used to bring     A hundred wigs a year!     The crows came cawing through the air     To pluck the Pilgrims' corn,     The bears came snuffing round the door     Whene'er a babe was born,     The rattlesnakes were bigger round     Than the but of the old rams horn     The deacon blew at meeting time     On every "Sabbath" morn.     But soon they knocked the wigwams down,     And pine-tree trunk and limb     Began to sprout among the leaves     In shape of steeples slim;     And out the little wharves were stretched     Along the ocean's rim,     And up the little school-house shot     To keep the boys in trim.     And when at length the College rose,     The sachem cocked his eye     At every tutor's meagre ribs     Whose coat-tails whistled by     But when the Greek and Hebrew words     Came tumbling from his jaws,     The copper-colored children all     Ran screaming to the squaws.     And who was on the Catalogue     When college was begun?     Two nephews of the President,     And the Professor's son;     (They turned a little Indian by,     As brown as any bun;)     Lord! how the seniors knocked about     The freshman class of one!     They had not then the dainty things     That commons now afford,     But succotash and hominy     Were smoking on the board;     They did not rattle round in gigs,     Or dash in long-tailed blues,     But always on Commencement days     The tutors blacked their shoes.     God bless the ancient Puritans!     Their lot was hard enough;     But honest hearts make iron arms,     And tender maids are tough;     So love and faith have formed and fed     Our true-born Yankee stuff,     And keep the kernel in the shell     The British found so rough!