HERE'S to the end of the century, lads,
        Here's the end of our comradeship,
    Clench your trembling hands then, lads,
        Sing! and drink in good fellowship.

            [Tho' all foretell for good Cornell
                Fair, ever bright'ning days,
            Where's a sign of mine or thine
                Beyond our college days?]

    Bring us our mammoth rubicons
        While we sit at the self-same board;
    Oft we'll sit at lonely ones
        Where a single glass is poured.

            [The years have passed, God knows how fast,
                While we have been together;
            How will they stride when, far and wide,
                Apart we chafe the tether?]

    Poured to a silent standing toast,
        Drunk to dear old days gone by,
    Drunk on hill or plain or coast
        Till the last of the class shall die.

            [For who can read the fateful screed,
                Until it has unrolled,
            Who does not shrink nor ever think
                Of all it may enfold?]

    Here's to the end of the century, boys,
        Come drink to blunt your sorrow;
    Our yesterdays were daily joys,
        To-day is fraught with to-morrow.
    So it's drink, drink, drink,
        And never mind your vows,
    For he's a cad who stops to think
        At this our last carouse!

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