I don’t know how this started, but a long time ago my brother (who is at Purdue) and I got in a fight. When we were little, we used to punch each other and that settled most disputes. Of course, as adults, we can’t do that, so we compose verse. I can’t find the poem he wrote, but here’s my response anyway:
From the depths of Purdue those that cannot climb,
Abandon logic for quite terrible rhyme,
They flail about and string words together
And hope to hell that they can leave the nether.
But rhyme that’s both piteous and pompous,
Can’t really substitute a moral compass,
It reeks much of seedy desperation,
Appropriate, though for the Boiler station.
The Lion, meanwhile, continues its stately roar,
Columbians rise to the sky, evermore,
Mayors, Bookers, Winners of the Nobel,
Pulitzers, Presidents – ’tis greatness hard to quell.
So, darling brother, would you please forget,
This piteous poetry and the empty threat?
My dear Columbia, my alma mater,
Will boil the Boilers and them will slaughter.