To Chairman Rist, An Ode Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Sing, O Goddess, of the wrath of Rist,
puerile pedagogue, 'spectacled, fierce,
who came to the aid of the faculty nation
beleaguered by leftists, the young generation,
by Parity, Bissell and Etkin and theirs,
by student involvement in student affairs.

'Protect the tower, lest our fortress fall!
Bar socialists, marxists, distruptors all!
Only WE can be apolitical,
we gods have unbiased beliefs on call!
Lest relevance rot our mechanical mind,
lest the faces that launched many thousand degrees
be forced to consider what everything means.'

And thou, A.T.S. in thy wisdom and might,
preparing the battle that faculty fight,
have chosen thy champion, crowned true chRist.
For when notions are menaced then savious are seen
to muster their minions of militant mien,
to safeguard their tenure, their future as Dean.
Down Barkwell! Down CUG! Beware Robin Ross!
Though last year espousing the parity cause
the A.T.S. now will fight 'gainst all sophs,
for such is the whim and the nature of profs.

Onward grave heroes to Council of Arts,
forward suave Rist, for some here have faint hearts,
and the Hector of History, Nelson of course,
whose advice A.T.S. takes as pure from the source,
who holds the 'Commitee on Government' helm,
lest politics tarnish you fail to inform.
Onward brave heroes to Council today,
strike down revisionists Brook and Conway,
return sacred 'solely' its place in the sun,
to manifest purity in parity motion.

Onward grave heroes, leap into the fray
sure of support from the greatest some day:
descendant of Heracles, noblest of Greeks,
both feet in his mouth whenever he speaks,
hired by your purified student-purged council:
Supervisor of Studies, dear Spiro Agnew!