The Masters’ Song
We are tender and kind, to small faults we are blind,
And youth’s indiscretions pass by like the wind.
In all things be sure our hope and our trust is,
With sweetness and light to give absolute justice;
By birth and by training our evident bent is
To try to prove worthy in loco parentis.
Then, besides the mens sana, we carefully nourish
The corpus, and with us athletics all flourish;
Be it sphere or spheroid, we can cleverly chase all,
While critics agree we are wonders at baseball.
In short, at all sports we are skillful and willing
With boxing and fencing and wrestling and drilling
