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HomeMy WebLinkAboutTexas A&M Aggie PoemsThe Last Corps Trip By Philo H. DuVal, Jr. '51 It was judgement day in Aggieland And tenseness filled the air; All knew there was a trip at hand, But, not a soul knew where. Assembled on the drill field Was the world renowned Twelfth Man; The entire fighting Aggie Team And the famous Aggie Band. And out in front with Royal Guard The reviewing party stood; St. Peter and his angel staff Were choosing bad from good. First he surveyed the Aggie Team And in terms of an angel swore; "By Jove, I do believe I've seen This gallant group before." "I've seen them play since way back when And they've always had the grit; I've seen 'em lose and I've seen 'em win, But I've never seen them quit. "No need for us to tarry here Deciding upon their fates; 'Tis as plain as the halo on my head That they've opened Heaven's gates." And when the Twelfth Man heard this They let out a might yell; That echoed clear to Heaven And shook the gates of Hell. "And what group is this upon the side?", St. Peter asked his aide; "That swelled as if to burst with pride When we our judgement made." "Why sir, that's the cadet corps That's known both far and wide; For backing up their fighting team Whether they won or lost or tied." "Well then," said St. Peter, "It's very plain to me; That within the realms of Heaven They should spend eternity." "And have the Texas Aggie Band At once commence to play; For their fates too we must decide Upon this crucial day." And the drum major, so hearing, Slowly raised his hand; And said, "Boys, let's play The Spirit For the last time in Aggieland." And the band poured forth the Anthem In notes both bright and clear; And ten thousand Aggie voices Sang the song they hold so dear. And when the band had finished St. Peter wiped his eyes; And said, "It's not so hard to see They're meant for Paradise." And the colonel of the cadet corps said, As he stiffly took his stand, "It's just another Corps Trip boys, We'll march in behind the band." The Twelfth Man By Lil Munnerlyn Texas Aggies down in Aggieland, We've got Aggie Spirit to a man! Stand united! That's the Aggie theme. We're the Twelfth Man on the team. When we're down, the goin's rough and tough, We just grin and yell we've got the stuff To fight together for the Aggie dream, We're the Twelfth Man on that fightin' Aggie team! Auld Lang Syne Should auld acquaintance be forgot And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot And days of auld lang syne? For auld lang syne , my dear, For auld lang syne. We'll take a cup of kindness yet For auld lang syne. Final Review By Steve C. Hoff (Father of Robert S. Hoff '41) They are playing Alma Mater, You can hear the Aggie tune, While they're standing at attention, 'Neath the skies of Texas' June. Now they're marching down the drill field, To the music of the band, Past the Mothers and the Fathers, Of the sons of Aggieland. Past the spurred and booted seniors, Formed in an ordered line, While their comrades do them honor, For the last and final time. Four years of work are over, Four years of joy and pain, And the spurred and booted senior, Ne'er will tread that field again. Many a heart is filled with sadness, Many an eye is wet with dew, As the Aggies dip their colors, In the Senior's last review! First published in The Battalion in May 1942. 'AN AGGIE TRADITION Old Army Fight Maroon and White Bonfire Burning Bright Way Into The Night The Aggie Ring The Elephant Walk In Spring The Twelfth Man The Aggie Band Although Others May Scoff Saw Varsity's Horns Off Reveille So Dear Muster's Answer "Here" Silver Taps The Corps In Caps What A Sight! The MSC and G. Rollie White Senior Boots The Aggie Whoop The Kiss After Each Score Need I Say More? The Spirit Line Marching In Time Yell Practice At Midnight Fight With All Our Might The Last Corps Trip The t sips All The Dorms Guys In Uniforms Block Formation Jubilation The Aggie War Hymn ATM By Dr. Francis H. Kimbrough '69 Copyright 1996 REFLECTION ON MUSTER '94 Tradition is all well and good, The kind of thing that gets in your blood And stirs your heart while you stand Cheering for the team along with the band. But tradition is also very hard When it catches you completely off guard And it's a ceremony that you hadn't planned To attend at all--now it's at hand. You have to decide where you will go To honor the daughter who left you so Unexpectedly you couldn't prepare for the pain That catches you unaware again and again. So you enter the room and see the chair, Empty, but with her name on it there. You hold the candle and take the light From another one whose chest is tight. You answer "Here" when her name is spoken, Try to hold back the tears though your heart is broken. You try to feel comfort from this rite, Honoring your child on this special night. You thought someday you might be here for someone old Whose hair was silver, not streaked with gold. The band plays slowly, the cadets sing in beautiful tone, The rifles are fired by young men with faces of stone. Silence descends in G. Rollie White As solemnly you file into the night, Grateful you had the chance to remember And honor the spirit of a cherished member. But there are times when tradition is very hard, Especially when you are caught off guard. By Jane Mehrens The above poem was written following Aggie Muster in 1994 in memory of Stacie Ann Mehrens '93, who died October 24, 1993 from injuries received in an automobile accident. Stacie is the daughter of Tiny and Janie Mehrens of Brenham. She graduated with a degree in accounting and was working for KPMG Peat Marwick in Austin. The poem was read at this year's Muster ceremony in Brenham. A&M Memorial Student Center I stood at the entrance of the MSC and looked upon a list, Of names of men I used to know who now rest in peace. And as I read each familiar name and remember the long ago, I cannot help but feel so sad that these Aggies had to go. For they were young and full of life with the future all ahead, But as true Aggies they met the call, now all of them are dead. They are gone but not forgotten, these Aggies of yesteryear. It all goes to show how very much young life is held so dear. How very much we'll miss them when the bugle sounds retreat, Though from the roll of living their names we must delete. But we'll ne'er forget them, for in our hearts they live, They only had one life and this they freely give. For those that have gone before and those who will come, Remember these men and what they did, they are Aggies every one. And in their sleep they will always hear their beloved Aggie Band, And for them it will ever be playing "The Spirit of Aggieland." By E.J. Pickens '44 August 1989 On A Wing And A Prayer by Robert W. Hensley 5/29/97 By the square and on the level, my father's time is near, and soon I'll pass from boy to man, amidst my grieving tears. But before he goes I'll tell him, how his life has been so rare, that he's way out o'er the channel, on a wing and on a prayer. I ain't worried though, my Dad and I are Masons. We've learned a thing bout travelin, toward the obstacles we're facin. We know the path and landmarks, and who stands to guard the door, and we know the tools and passwords, when it's out time on the floor. I am ashamed of all my tears, and pitiful emotions, I feel I'm being left behind as he heads out cross the ocean. He embarks upon the great adventure, ever faced by man, while I'm left dodging breakers, on the shore line, in the sand. I'm feeling pretty useless, so I'll take them time to pray, and ask the Tiler to do me a favor, I'll pay him back someday. “Could you call a special muster, of your Aggie Engineers, and have them do some major fixin’, to prevent the thing I fear. Pull down the marble columns, that hold the pearly gates, and set the new foundations wide, a mile would be first rate. Maybe place some bright reflectors, right down the center line, then fill the holes along the path, and sweep the surface fine. A new coat of paint on those old gates would make em shimmer in the light, so I ordered cans and brushes, they only came in maroon and white. When the work's all done let them Aggies have a bonfire, burn it night & day, so that even from a long way off, a fella could find his way. Send some Fish up on the hill, to keep a watch out on the sky, to call a loud Hulla Ballu, should he come flyin by. Have his crew that passed before him, swing wide that heaven's door, cause my old man is comin in, in that old beat up B-24. By the square and on the level, my father's time is near, and soon I'll pass from boy to man, amidst my grieving tears. But before he goes I'll tell him, how his life has been so rare, that he's way out o'er the channel, on a wing and on a prayer. This poem may not be used unless permission is obtained from the author. D. Pat Canuteson '77, 2817 Miramar Drive, Carrollton, Texas 75007 (972) 446-8397 Home (972) 484-9863 Work e-mail: Pat@valwood.com The Hearts of Aggieland What makes Texas A&M so special? It isn't hard to understand. The Answer is found when one is transformed By the Spirit of Aggieland. Some may scoff at our traditions. Some may mock our sense of pride. But what other school plays Silver Taps When one of its own has died? Could it be the famous Corps of Cadets, Or perhaps the Fighting Texas Aggie Band? Could it be ol' Sul Ross or E. King Gill, The original Twelfth Man? Maybe it's the student body, ready and willing To answer the call, who proudly stand. Or the Aggie bond when you see another's senior ring Introduce yourself, and shake his hand. May it's Reveille or Kyle Field, Or the Aggie War Hymn and its "Hullabaloo." Perhaps it's Bonfire, signifying our burning desire To "Beat the Hell Outta t.u.!" Maybe it's the Former Students. There are no "exes" here. Maybe it's Muster, when the Roll is called, And another answers, "Here." Maybe it's "Gig 'em" or a friendly "Howdy," Or an approving "Whoop." Maybe it's our Yell Leaders or Midnight Yell Practice, Or a senior cadet's boots. Perhaps it's the Memorial Student Center And its hallowed grounds, Where hats are removed in respect to fallen heros, And a sense of God and Country abounds. You see, my friend, all of these and more Make Texas A&M stand apart. For once you're an Aggie, you're always an Aggie, And the Spirit burns within your heart. And though "some may boast of prowess bold, Of the school they think so grand," The Spirit is alive and they bleed maroon In the Hearts of Aggieland. D. Pat Canuteson '77 © 1993, All Rights Reserved BAND OF GOLD By Jeff Brady '86 "Howdy, son," he said, extending a wrinkled hand. Callused and worn, he held it out and I noticed a golden band. The old man walked with a cane, and could barely see me, I'll bet, But had something to say, that bright Spring day, which I know I'll never forget. That brassy lump was hard to read, worn from time long passed, But it fit his hand, and he fit it — a union built to last. Despite his age, despite its nicks, he had worn it all this time, Like an old, old vow to someone close or a holy vow — sublime. Through the years of growth, years of pain, a man changes in many ways, But something made him wear that thing since his college days. So I took his hand, shook it well, and sensed there was something great. "Glad to meetcha," he smiled an Aggie smile, "Jack O'Brian, Class of '38." You see, I left A&M two years ago — with a diploma and a ton of ambition. Loved the place and the pride, my friends, and the yells — but now I'm in a different position. I'm out of class, off the campus, in business circles and such, So wearing my ring and supporting the school didn't seem to matter that much. But everything changed the day I met Jack, and he tapped my Spirit deeply, And spoke to me of a place so dear, and a bond I know completely. He reminded me in an instant that each of us has a part to play, To honor that school, and keep the faith, even though far away. Jack told me of a friend he had, who kept him up in school, Who helped him study, taught him to march and to obey each Aggie rule. "Be true to a trust, stand by the right, he told me," and old Jack grinned, "I never would have survived fish year, if not for my closest friend." Then Jack bowed his head and paused a bit, and added with a sigh — "But I lost him back in World War II, on Omaha Beach, where heroes lie. "So I wear it for him," Jack raised his head. "This ring is my tribute and my pride In those Aggies who went before me, and most of whom have died. I wear it for those who cannot. I wear it for those who would. And I wear it too, for kids like you, who know they really should." Jack smiled at me, and patted my back, and shuffled off on his way, Not knowing, I'm sure, how much he said, or how he changed me that day. So I wear my ring these days for Jack, who's had his on since '38. The crest, the words, that mean so much. The symbol of a place so great. It's a small thing, really. A minor matter, which other schools probably lack, But a band of gold can say a lot, according to a man named Jack. This poem was written to illustrate the significance of the Aggie Ring. Jeff Brady '86 created the characters of Jack O'Brian '38 and the young A&M graduate for the poem. He presented the poem during his address at the San Antonio Aggie Muster on April 21,1998. Jeff Brady '86 is a weeknight news anchor for KSAT-TV (Channel 12) in San Antonio. The Georgetown native was commissioned in the U.S. Marine Corps as Texas A&M's Outstanding Military Graduate. He served in Operation Desert Storm and then was a reporter on TV stations in Yuma, Arizona; Tyler; and Shreveport, Louisiana, before joining KSAT. His assignments have included the Super Bowl, the Branch Davidian StandOff in Waco, the UN blockade of Haiti and the NASA shuttle program. Published in December 1998 Texas Aggie magazine. The passing of Texas A&M mascot, Reveille I, prompted this tribute by John Ashton, Ph.D. From San Angelo Standard November 22,1940 Note: Dr. John Ashton was Class of 1906. GOOD-BY, REVEILLE. By Dr. John Ashton , Class of 1906 When “dress parade”once more rolls round And grass grows green o'er tiny mound, We'll think of one we'll ne'er more see. Our darling little Reveille! Ancestral claims she boasted not; Poor mongrel waif--such was her lot. But campus days were all serene When homeless pup became a “queen.” In doggie language, plain as day, Rev warned all canines: “Keep away, This is my show, I'll search no more; No other dog shall lead this Corps!” So when the band struck up an air We always knew that Rev was there. For, sure enough, her bark of glee As good as meant: “Just look at me!” No wonder, then, drum majors said: “The public watches her, instead! How can we strut our stuff with pride If Rev steps out and acts as guide?” But best of all, at football game, When thousands saw her bid for fame, Rev played big role and did it well; O, how we miss her, none can tell! She pranced and capered, yelped with joy; No lady-dog e'er looked so coy. Her funny antics, born of zeal, Won hosts of friends thru sheer appeal. To Rev all Aggies smelled the same, Whate'er their rank or whence they came. She loved them all with equal zest; They honored her as welcome guest. But now she's sailed on Charon's barge; No more we hear her bark at large. Her work is done, now let her rest; If dogs have souls, may hers be blest! Around Such Things Traditions Are Made By W.H. Fredriksson November 23, 1971 The poem was written after his first exposure to a Fightin' Texas Aggie Bonfire while a Ph.D. candidate at Texas A&M,. Printed on inside front cover of Nov/Dec 1971 Texas Aggie magazine 3:30 A.M.-------Has it moved? Wind, rain, pain. Water soaked embers of a fizzled out fire. No cigarette — matches soaked. How much longer before relief? Guarding------Guarding What? For GOD's sake, it wouldn't burn. Chattering teeth, stomping feet, Shaking, Shivering. Looming in the darkness of night, The object of affection: The spires of logs CLIMB---- The white flag flaps in the Norther' On dancing feet, Beckoning—Challenging "Can you make it?" Does the flag mean surrender? Wednesday draws near. It can't be! Time already . . . Am I paralyzed? Can't move. Arms, legs, body ACHEeeee. The chow line moves— food—Yuk—got to eat—strength. Ease the gnaw in my Belly. Let's go men, Load this truck. Heave, push, pull, strain. Together once more Over the top. Mud, slip, slump, pant. GO—GO "Beat Texas" No Class today, A holiday, A HOLIDAY! What am I doing here? Hands raw, face wind-whipped, stung by branches, soaked, cold . . . Let's go men, Unload this truck. RAH-RAH How's your foot? Heave— Is it break time yet? Break time! HA. Still raining, wind GOD shine some light on our work Give us some sun. Third tier—more to go Heave-Ho More logs to stack. Haul it to the top. Work, WORK, GOD my back. Who said, "Make it bigger, Higher?" The white flag flaunts, "Are you finished?" Are we finished? Done? No more work . . . Fun, Fun, FUN Have a date, Can't be late. Just rest a few minutes, Catch my breath. OH REST— Sweet blessed rest--------------. . . . Did mere man create such a thing? The band plays, The crowd roars, The flames leap for the sky. The flag dances away But alas, The fire's dragon breath Engulfs And brings the flimsy garment Down. ASHES. . . . . . How much sweat, tears, blood, Went up there? Does anyone know? Does anyone care? How long did it take, 40 minutes or so, to consume—to undo— What it took thousands A week to do. Was it a waste? Who can say AROUND SUCH THINGS TRADITIONS ARE MADE . . . Hey Ol' Army Let a living memorial rise up each year! Built of strength and Ol' Army pride. More than desire to beat t.u.— But in memory of all who died! Let the Aggie Corps construct a bonfire — For in "its building" we make the man! Those training to defend our Country Experiencing their first command. Their well-planned structure of teamwork Teaches discipline and strictness to rule. In its rank and file of military code Comes respect of authority and school. Hold fast the traditions of purpose and worth Applied values not yet understood! That is the flame that must never go out — Our foundation (of strength for learning) that's good.. Dr. James K. "Jim" Hennigan '54 2001 "Not the burning —it's the learning that's important." "Not the flame —but the gain through its building." "How you begin —predicts the end —firm the foundation." NOTE: Jim Hennigan dictated this poem and the accompanying comments to his wife, Jeanette Hennigan, shortly before his death April 14, 2001, a week before Aggie Muster. Jim retired in 1996 after teaching industrial engineering at Texas A&M for 30 years. For many years he was a faculty advisor for Aggie Bonfire. Specifications for a Man To respect my country, my profession and myself. To be honest and fair with my fellow men as I expect them to be with me. To be a loyal citizen of the United States. To speak of it with praise and act always as a trustworthy custodian of its good name. To base my expectations of a reward on a solid foundation of service rendered. To be willing to pay the price of success in honest effort. To look upon my work as an opportunity to be seized with joy and to be made the most of, not as a painful drudgery to be reluctantly endured. To remember that success lies within my own self and in my own brain, my own ambition and my own courage and determination. To expect difficulties and force my way through them. To turn hard experience into capital for future struggles. To believe in my profession heart and soul. To carry an air of optimism in the presence of those I meet. To dispel all temper with cheerfulness, kill doubts with strong conviction, and reduce action with an agreeable personality. To make a study of my business. To know my plrofession in every detail. To mix brains with effort and system in my work. To find time to do every needful thing by not letting time find me doing nothing. To hoard days as a miser does dollars. To make every hour bring me dividends in increased knowledge and healthful recreation. To keep my future unencumbered with debts. To save as well as to earn. To cut out expensive amusements until I can afford them. To steer clear of dissapation and guard my health of body and peace of mind as a most precious stock in trade. Finally, to take a good grip on the joys of life. To play the game like a man. To fight against nothing as hard as my own weakness and endeavor to give it strength. To be a gentleman and a Christian so I may be courteous to man, faithful to friends, and true to God. Sent to Ronald E. McAdams '32 shortly after World War II by a Texas A&M classmate.