Bryn Mawr College Song — Sophias
(Also Freshman Lantern Night Song)
Sophias, philai, paromen,
Philokaloumen met euteleias.
Philosophoumen aneu malakias.
Plouto ergou kairo chrometha
Athlon ariston, kai kindunon
Tonde kalliston nomizomen.
Enthoumometha orthos hosa praxomen orthos.
Kalon to ahthlon kai elpis magale,
Elpis megale,
Kalon to athlon kai elpis megale,
Elpis megale, nai megale. Friends of wisdom, let us gather;
We love beauty with simplicity,
We love wisdom without softness,
We use our talents to accomplish deeds.
This is the finest achievement, and this venture
We consider most noble.
We have a proper pride in what we have properly achieved.
The achievement is worthy and our hope is great, hope is great
The achievement is worthy and our hope is great,
Hope is great, yea, great.
Sophomore Lantern Night Hymn
Pallas Athena thea
Mathematos kai sthenous,
Se para hemeis imen,
Hierusousai, soi, deine.
Hierusousai, soi, deine (4)
Akoue, akoue.
Makarize, aitoumen
Hemin sophian didou
Hemin syngignou aei
Makar thea akoue.
Makar thea akoue (4)
Akoue, akoue.
Hierize nyn tous lychnous
Aie phanos phanoien.
Lamprynontes ten hodan
Melan phanon poiountes.
Melan phanon poiountes (4)
Akoue, akoue. Pallas Athena, goddess
of learning and strength,
We come to you
To worship you, dread goddess.
Bless us, we pray;
Give us wisdom;
Be with us always,
Blessed goddess, hear!
Blessed goddess, hear! (4) Hear, o hear!
Sanctify our lanterns now
To shine clearly forever,
Lighting the way,
making bright the dark,
Making bright the dark, (4) Hear, o hear!
College Cheer
Anassa kata kalo kale
Ia ia ia nike
Bryn Mawr, Bryn Mawr, Bryn Mawr.
Parade Night Song
(Tune of “Get Me to the Church On Time”)
We are the greatest class of Freshmen,
We’re gonna make this college shine –
When men come to date us
The sophomores will hate us,
But jealousy’s a waste of time.
Because the sophomores don’t have a plea,
Look at us Freshmen and you’ll plainly see
That we are the greatest class of Freshmen,
Spirit is really up to par.
So don’t underrate us,
We’ll keep up the status,
Upward we are bound,
We’ll never let you down,
For we are the Freshman class of dear Bryn Mawr.
Freshman Show Song: “Who Put the Vie in Viking?”
Who saved Halvallah from ruin,
Who kept us from going extinct?
Who Kept King Frothmuch from stewing?
Who do you think?
Who solved our romantic dilemmas,
Who brought love to our horny kings?
Who gave our queens their strong-hearted men?
Who do you think?
Who set our kings on the right trail,
Who found the key to the missing link?
Who saved our necks, ended quest for quail?
Who do you think?
Who gave us hope for tomorrow?
Who kept our warriors from striking?
Who foretold the glory of Bairn Mawra,
Who put the Vie in Viking?
Who, who, who?
Arnuf C. Heathdan!
Who??
That little old druid, me!
That little old druid, he!
Junior: Today’s People
Do you know who you are out there?
If you do, let us know.
But if you don’t, if you’re like most of the rest of us,
You may find out if you come along, for
We are Today’s People, lookin’ for the morning star (2).
Don’t care what we look like in thirty years,
Don’t care if I grow up just like my mother,
‘Cause tomorrow is another world –
We’re alive and we are warm,
We’re young and we’re together –
Sometimes afraid, sometimes we want to run and hide,
But you won’t catch us with our eyes shut tight, ’cause
We are Today’s People, lookin’ for the morning star (2).
Don’t care what’s behind me in the old home town,
Don’t care about filling someone’s worn-out shoes,
‘Cause tomorrow is another world –
I’m not trying to overthrow the town,
I’m not trying to tear your system down,
I’m not trying to run away,
We are Today’s People, lookin’ for the morning star (2).
We’re not hung up on doom and fate,
Security can wait till later,
‘Cause tomorrow is another world –
By now you know that
We are Today’s People, lookin’ for the morning star,
We are Today’s People, WE ARE!
Scarborough Fair/Canticle
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Remember me to one who lives there,
She once was a true love of mine.
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
On the side of a hill in the deep forest green
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Tracing of sparrow on snow-crested brown,
Without no seams nor needlework
Blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain
Then she’ll be a true love of mine.
Sleeps unaware of the clarion call.
Tell her to find me an acre of land
On the side of a hill a sprinkling of leaves
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Watches the grave with silvery tears.
Between the salt water and the sea strand
A soldier cleans and polishes a gun.
Then she’ll be a true love of mine.
Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather
War bellow blazing in scarlet battalions
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Generals order their soldiers to kill,
And gather it all in a bunch of heather –
And they fight for a cause they’ve long ago forgotten.
Then she’ll be a true love of mine.
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Remember me to one who lives there,
She once was a true love of mine.
The Ash Grove
Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander,
When twilight is fading I pensively rove,
Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander
Amid the dark shades of the lonely Ash Grove.
Twas there, while the blackbird was cheerfully singing,
I first met that dear one, the joy of my heart.
Around us for gladness the bluebells were springing,
Ah! then little thought I how soon we should part.
Still glows the bright sunshine o’er valley and mountain,
Still warbles the blackbird its note from the tree,
Still trembles the moonbeam on streamlet and fountain,
But what are the beauties of nature to me?
With sorrow, deep sorrow, my bosom is laden,
All day I go mourning in search of my love.
Ye echoes, oh! tell me, where is the sweet maiden?
She sleeps neath the green of the lonely Ash Grove.
ROUNDS
1. “Three Blind Mice” and “Frere Jacques” and “Row, Row, Row.”
2. Hey Ho, Nobody Home
He ho, nobody home,
No meat, no drink, nor money have I none,
Yet shall we be merry,
He ho, nobody home.
To the Maypole
To the maypole let us on,
The time is swift and will be gone.
Then come lasses to the green
Where their beauties may be seen.
All fair lasses have lads to attend them,
Jolly brave dancers who can amend them.
To the maypole let us on,
The time is swift and will be gone.
Come together, come sweet lass,
Let us trip it on the grass.
Courting, piping on the green,
The bravest lads will sure be seen
There all day on the first of May
Lads and lasses dance and play.
Come together, come sweet lass
Let us trip in on the grass.
Come Lasses and Lads
Come lasses and lads, take leave of your dads,
Away to the maypole, hie!
For every fair has a sweetheart there,
And the fiddler’s standing by.
For Willie shall dance with Jane,
And Johnnie has go this Joan
To trip it, trip it, trip it, trip it,
trip it up and down.
“Strike up,” says Watt; “agreed,” says Matt,
“And I prithee, Fiddler, play,”
“Content,” says Hodge; “And so,” says Madge,
“For this is a holiday.”
Then every lad did doff
His hat unto his lass,
And every girl did curtsey, curtsey,
curstey on the grass.
Magdalen Hymn
Te Deum Patrem colimus.
Te laudibus prosequimur,
Quo corpus ciboreficis,
Coelestimentem, gratia.
Te, adoramus, O Ieus!
Te, Fili Unigenite,
Te, qui non indignatus es
Subire Claustra Virginis.
Actus in Crucem, Factus es
Irato Deo victima!
Per Te, Salvator unice.
Vitae spes nobis redit.
Tibi, Aeterne Spiritu,
Cuics afflatu peperit
Infantum Deum Maria
Aeternum benedidimus.
Triune Deus, hominum
Salutis Auctor Optime:
Immensum hoc mysterium
Ovante lingua canimus.
The Hunt is Up
The hunt is up, the hunt is up,
And it is well nigh day,
And Harry, our king, is gone a-hunting,
To bring his deer to bay.
The east is bright with morning light
And darkness, it is fled.
The merry horn wakes up the morn
To leave his idle bed.
The sun is glad to see us clad
All in our lusty green,
And smiles in the night as he riseth high
To see and to be seen.
Awake, O man, I say again,
Be merry while ye may,
For Harry, our king, is gone a-hunting,
To bring his deer to bay.
The Keeper
The keeper did a-hunting go,
And under his cloak he carried a boy,
All for to shoot at a merry little doe,
Among the leaves so green-o.
Refrain:
“Jackie boy!” “Master?”
“Sing you well?” “Very well!”
Hey down! Hoe down!
Derry derry down,
Among the leaves so green-o.
With a hey down down,
With a hoe down down.
Hey down! Hoe down!
Derry derry down,
Among the leaves so green-o.
The first doe she did cross the plain,
The keeper fetched her back again.
Where she is now she may remain,
Among the leaves so green-o.
Refrain
The second doe she crossed the brook,
The keeper fetched her back with a hook.
Where she is now you may go and look,
Among the leaves so green-o.
We Will Come Back
We will come back when the library’s lost all its books,
We will come back when Haverford’s known for its looks,
We will come back when the halls have portable bars,
The orals are out and there’s parking for cars.
We will come back when they serve us breakfast in bed,
And we can major in love and how to get wed.
When semester papers are no longer due,
Bryn Mawr we’ll come back to you –
But don’t expect us –
Bryn Mawr we’ll come back to you –
Song of the Abolition
(Tune: To the Maypole)
To the Mawrters let us on,
Parietals are dead and gone!
Flights of angels, birds, and bees,
Will sing in praise of our trustees!
All good Fords can have girls attend them
Night and day, now that they
Won’t have to sent them
Home to Bryn Mawr until dawn!
Parietals are dead and gone!
Haverford will really swing
When girls can come and stay all spring!
Soon we’ll need a ladies’ john!
Parietals are dead and gone!
Think how grand – we can lend a hand
In helping our college to grow and expand!
So to the Mawrters let us on,
Parietals are dead and gone!
Song of the Brainy Female
(Tune: You Can’t Get a Man With a Gun)
If you know all the answers
But Haverford romancers
Still avoid you with might and main,
O it’s not that you’re ugly
Or that you’re less-than-snuggly —
It’s you can’t get a man with a brain.
The av’rage Bryn Mawrter
Can’t help appearing smarter
Than the swain whom she fain would gain.
But the men don’t join forces
With girls who ace their courses —
Oh you can’t get a man with a brain.
Chorus:
So the way to successes
And multiple caresses
(Though it may go against the grain)
Is to act adolescent
When gentlemen are present,
‘Cause you don’t get a mark
When you park in the dark —
And you can’t get a man with a brain.
Haverford Harry
The boy that I marry will have to be
A hermit, neurotic, and wear a goatee,
A Haverfurdian.
He’ll be arty and smarty and smell of raw gin.
His hair will be stringy and shoulder length.
He’ll snow all the girls with his sheer brute strength.
He’s a nudist, a Zen Buddhist,
And his social deportment’s the crudest.
His room will be cluttered with sculpture weird.
His chin will be covered with unshaved beard.
He’s terrific, he’s prolific,
His demands and desires quite specific.
He seems to be haunted with some strange hex,
A complex concerning that thing called sex.
He’s sublime-o, what a wine-o,
For some young thing from Shipley, divine-o.
So a Haverford Harry the boy I marry must be … inevitably!
So Free Us
So free us from our profs for men,
Knee high to you men, met at the mixer
Really so few men.
Oh me, alack, alas, none of you’ll do;
There are no men our wrists on to kiss on.
Why don’t you call Monday, call me please, call me oh men
And through the months there
Are those horsy Penn Dent men, oh no!
Alone with Harry, God help us, my God, (help us my God)
Alone with Harry, God help us, my God,
Help us, my God, ay my God!
Professor, O Professor
Professor, O Professor,
I cannot write my paper, my paper,
Because I have the flu.
So give me an extension
Beyond the day it’s due, due,
Just for a week or two.
When I get back from Princeton,
I’ll work on Chapter Two, Two,
I promise, Yes, I do.
Thou Gracious Inspiration
Thou Gracious Inspiration, our guiding star,
Mistress and Mother, all hail Bryn Mawr.
Goddess of Wisdom, thy torch divine
Doth beacon thy votaries to thy shrine.
And we, thy daughters, would thy vestals be,
Thy torch to consecrate eternally.
Good Night
Goodnight, Goodnight,
Time sends a warning call,
Sweet dreams descent on all,
Time, time sends a warning call.
