Ode to the Seniors

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Well the time is here, finally arrived

For us to bid our seniors goodbye.

I could cry, I could weep. I could display emotions deep

Or I could joke and pun and generally have some fun.

What’s an Amanuensis to do? Roast the seniors of course. Wouldn’t you?

 

Chancellor P is our most senior senior,

Everyone knows he’ll become a monsignor.

Glasses and tux, his virtue couldn’t meaner,

He’s got justice, truth, and proper demeanor.           

Always making sure we’ve got the right decorum,

You know he’ll find you if we don’t have quorum.

 

His best friend Drew is far down the list.

A fitting place for such a classist.

Why do you hate poor people Drew?

What did they ever do to you?

In all seriousness I should not make fun.

You’ll all have jobs soon. Drew will have none!

(JK, you know I love you Drew)

 

Need books? Greg Miller will let you withdraw.

His next pursuit, of course the law!

For when it comes to the bar, he’s our czar,

Mixing and fixing, the best by far!

(Greg, I know you’re not going to law school, but I don’t care)

 

Chris Stromeyer is Argentine

And thinks economics is the only paradigm.

He went to Britain to study abroad

But when it comes to the Falklands,

England’s the country he’d rob!

 

For Evan Monod, we always applaud.

His speeches cut through this Society’s pretentious façade.

He has us rolling on the floor laughing

And with the ladies he’s always chatting!

 

But Pat Spagnuolo has the most game

I don’t think he’s missed a single dame!

He’s been called nasty, brutish and short,

But he’s a New Yorker, and always has a scathing retort.

We’ll miss his wit and jokes and kindness,

But his libertarian values are a bit of a minus.

Really you hate philosophy?

That must be another bit of comedy.

Come on man this is Philo!

Throw your “pragmatism” out the window.

                                                                             

The idealists rule the show in the Philodemic Room!

For instance Gavin Bade will always fume

When the capitalist pigs are on the march.

He knows they can only be stopped by Karl Marx

 

I’m sure he’ll be missed down at the Voice.

Between him and Heather, it’s a tough choice

Ms. Regen brings so much to any group she’s a part

Probably because she has such a big heart.

To her I owe a special thanks

She took me to Martin’s when I was full of freshman angst.

 

Jacob Arber holds true love dear.

But it never seems very near.

He talks the talk of love a lot.

Experience? That’s someone else’s lot.

 

The feminist wing is not to be forgotten.

All over the patriarchy they’ve trodden!

Colleen’s speeches are full of fury,

When she takes the floor her opponents flee in a hurry!

 

Amanda can seem a bit nicer.

But insult Plato and you’re on the icer!

This year she won Merrick for her philosophical sermon.

The only surprise? She doesn’t speak German!

 

Not to be forgotten is Maggie Cleary.

In her dresses and heels she never looks dreary.

Too bad she’s late to every debate

And ignores the framing nine times out of eight!

 

Before I close, I must pay my dues

To a Treasurer that I’m happy we choosed.

Hannah Miller has disappeared of late.

But I’m not mad, I’m not irate.

For a year she kept us in the black.

If only we could have her back.

 

Anais and Emilie are in the IRC.

Which is why their names aren’t familiar to me!

 

Silverstein, Carlson, Governdale, what am I supposed to say?

They’re not even here today.

 

I want to speak of one Gottlieb, Max

Though his attendance has been rather lax.

He is more senior than all.

Hail Gottlieb from wall to wall!

 

Finally, I would by nasty

If I forgot Mr. Kevin Diasti.

He’s in the NHS

Sung: “Lonely! I am so lonely! I’ve got nobody, to call my own!”

 

As the laughter dies down:

 

And so goes the class of 2014,

Looking dashing and dapper and keen

But finally guys most important of all,

It’s been a pleasure, it’s been a blast, it’s been a real ball.

Done more harm than good? Perhaps. I don’t know.

But you’ve built something here, we’re all the seeds that you sowed.

I’ll miss you guys,

Michael Whelan

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