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The Heathen Pass-ee

Which I wish to remark,
And my language is plain,
That for plots that are dark
And not always in vain,
The heathen Pass-ee is peculiar,
And the same I would rise to explain.

I would also premise
That the term of Pass-ee
Most fitly applies,
As you probably see,
To one whose vocation is passing
The ‘ordinary B.A. degree’.

Tom crib was his name,
And I shall not deny
In regard to the same
What that name might imply,
But his face it was trustful and childlike,
And he had the most innocent eye.

Upon April the First,
The Little-Go fell,
And that was the worst
Of the gentleman’s sell,
For he fooled the examining Body
In a way I’m reluctant to tell.

The candidate came
And Tom Crib soon appeared;
It was Euclid,, The same
Was ‘the subject he feared’,
But he smiled as he sat by the table
With a smile that was wary and weird.

Yet he did what he could,
And the papers he showed
Were remarkably good,
And his countenance glowed
With pride when I met him soon after
As he walked down the Trumpington Road.

We did not find him out,
Which I bitterly grieve,
For I’ve not the least doubt
That he’d placed up his sleeve
Mr. Toodhunter’s excellent Euclid,
The same with intent to deceive

But I shall not forget

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