Listen my students and you shall hear

Of the midnight ride of Paul Cheapbeer

On the twenty-ninth of January, in 2016

Hardly a freshman won’t being looking pristine

When I’m Shmacked films them getting drunk

 

He said to his roommate, “If these douchebags march

By land or Ranger Rover on the Hill to-night,

Throw a Smirnoff handle off the Crouse building arch

If it is empty — and raspberry, it will shine bright

One if by land, two if by Range Rover

And I at DJs will soon be over,

Ready to ride and spread the alarm

Through every dormitory village and off-campus farm

For the student body to be up and to arm

 

Meanwhile, the students through alley and street

Wander and drink, with eager ears

‘Til in the silence around them they hear

The muster of bros at the bar room door

The sound of GoPros, and the tramp of boots

And the measured tread of women’s rebuke

I’m Shmacked had unfortunately arrived for more

 

Beneath, on Walnut, lay the alcohol induced brain-dead

In their night attire on the Hill,

Wrapped in dresses so short and snapbacks so chill

And they could hear, as a young BDJ’er would dread

The watchful eye of a camera lens

Creeping through frats from Benz to Benz

And seeming to whisper “Do something slutty”

A moment that turns hot girls into putty

With no regard for the hour or the secret dread

That it will be on Facebook and in the eyes of their parents they will be dead

Unfortunately all their thoughts lay bent

On a shadowy restaurant far, far away

Where cookies are sold almost until day

A line of Canada Goose that bends and floats

Like a Westchester hurricane that destroys all their boats

 

You know the rest. On YouTube you’ve seen

I’m Shmacked with their quick cuts and music video sheen

College kids partying from wall to wall,

Videos that don’t show what college is at all

Chasing sorority girls down the lane,

Then crossing Walnut to emerge again

Under the trees with a camera in tow,

And only pausing to fist bump their bro

 

So through the night rode Paul Cheapbeer

And so through the night went his drunk cry of alarm

To every student who truly meant no harm

A cry of defiance, and not of fear

A voice in the freezing, a knock at your door

And a hope that soon “LIT SZN” will be no more

Through SU history, to the last,

In the hour of drunken peril and need,

The students at noon will waken and hear

The sound of a taxi, the faint smell of weed

And the midnight message of Paul Cheapbeer.

Published on January 18, 2016 at 11:27 pm