Punch (10.1846)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

163

THE FIGHT OF THE CRESCENT. A LAY OF MODERN CAMBRIDGE.

The sturdy undergraduates

Are pouring in amain,
Up thro' the fair Rose Crescent,

The Market-place to gain—
Prom many a wild wine-party,

From many a sober tea,
From the distant halls of Downing,

And the Courts of Trinity.

From lowly Queen's Quadrangle,

Where muffins are the go ;
From Magd'lene, famed for fast men,

From Cath'rine, famed for slow ;
From Caius, where anxious proctors

To keep the gates shut try ;
From Clare, where Dons chivalrous

Unlock them on the sly.

There be twenty chosen gownsmen,

The foremost of the band,
Pupils of Sambo Sutton,

To keep the Crescent stand:
They can't run if they wish'd it;

Perforce they bear the brunt,
For the gownsmen in the rear-rank

Push the gownsmen in the front.

And all within the Market-place,

And Market-Hill along,
The townsmen, far as words can go,

Come it uncommon strong.
But as yet no nose is bleeding,

As yet no man is down ;
For the gownsmen funk the townsmen,

And the townsmen funk the gown.

When, lo ! a cad comes brimful

Of bravery and beer—
** To arms ! to arms ! The Borough

Police will soon be here ! "
Thro' Market Street, to eastward,

Each townsman turn'd his eye,
And saw the hats and truncheons

Rise fast along the sky.

And plainly and more plainly,

Now may each gownsman know,
By form and face, by port and pace,

Each big blue-coated foe.
There, in the front, fierce Freestone,

Be-whisker'd, may be seen,
And stalwart Serjeant Seabbook,

With buttons bright and sheen ;

And Buggins, of the mutton fist ;
And Muggins, with the fearful twist ;
And Hobbs, famed for his waving curls ;
And Dobbs, adored by servant girls ;
And gruff Inspector Greene !

Then out spake a fellow-commoner,

In voice both sad and low,
And darkly look'd he on his friends.

And darkly on his foe :
" They '11 be too many for us ;

Ten to one against the gown :
Unless we get to Trinity

We '11 be wallop'd by the town."

Then out spake brave Fitz-Wiggins,

Though a small college man :
" To keep the Crescent 'gainst the cads,

I '11 do the best I can !
And if none will stand beside me,

Alone I '11 face the snobs,
Despite fierce Freestone's truncheon

And the staves of Hobbs or Dobbs ! "

Then out spake Sir Tom Noddt,

A son of Trinity,
' Lo, I will stand at thy right hand,

And the Crescent keep with thee."
And out spake Merrypebbles—

A Johnian was he—
" I will abide at thy left side,

And the Crescent keep with thee."

A great shout of defiance

From all the snobs arose,
But the three stand calm and silent—

A thumb to every nose !
And forth three Peelers rushing,

Attempt to storm the Pass ;
Truncheons are thick, but fists are quick,

And down they go to grass !

Fitz-Wiggins floor" d fierce Freestone,

Tom Noddy levell'd Hobbs,
And cheerful Merrypebbles

Black'd both the eyes of Dobbs ;
And the aggravated townsmen

Stand all appall'd to see
On the flags the unconscious Peelers—

In the Pass the dauntless Three !
And on the leaguer'd Crescent

Was none would brave attack ;
But those behind cried " Forward !"

And those in front cried " Back 1"

Meanwhile their legs the gownsmen

Right manfully have pi ied ;
And now they've got to Trinity,

And the gates are open'd wide.
" Come back, come back, Fttz-Wiggins,"

Loud cried they from the gate
"Back Noddy, Merrypebbles,

Back, or you '11 be too late !"

But the police are on them,

And their truncheons fierce they ply ;
Now the Fates save brave Fitz-Wiggins—■

What a terrible black eye !—
Though Merrypebbles' head be

The thickest in the ring,
It scarce can 'scape unbroken ;

Such staves must make it sing.

Alone stood Sir Tom Noddy,

But constant still in mind,
Policemen pitching in before

And Trinity behind.
" Down with him ! " cried false Seabrook,

As he mopp'd his bloody face ;
" Now yield thee," cried the Inspector,

Now yiold thee, to our grace !"

But brave Tom Noddy never de

An answer ; no not he ;
But he floor'd the Inspector neatly

As a man could wish to see :
And through the storming townsmen

And the irate police,
He fights his passage manfully,

And he wins the gate in peace.

And now, his gown in ribbands,

In the crowded court he stands.
And " to call upon him the next day,"

Receives the Dean's commands.
And then with shouts and clapping,

And hip, hip, hurrah, loud,
He passes on unto his rooms,

Borne by the admiring crowd.

But he was rusticated

By the Dons that very night;
And when he show'd them his black eye,

They said, "It served Mm right."
But long at our wine-parties,

We '11 remember how, like bricks,
Stout Noddy kept the Crescent,

In Eighteen-forty-six I