SWIL Filkbook #3

Back to filk page

The Thermodynamics Final

Free energy and entropy were whirling in his brain
With partial differentials and Greek letters in their train.
With delta, sigma, gamma, theta, epsilon and pi's.
Were driving him distracted as they danced before his eyes.

Glory, glory, dear old thermo, [First Chorus]
Glory, glory, dear old thermo,
Glory, glory, dear old thermo,
We'll pass you by and by.
[last verse: We'll try again next year.]

Heat content and fugacity revolved within his brain
Like molecules and atoms that you never have to name.
With logarithmic functions doing cakewalks in his dreams,
And partial molal quantities devouring chocolate cream.

They asked him on his final if a mole of any gas
In a vessel with a membrane through which hydrogen could pass
Were compressed to any volume, what the entropy would be
If two-thirds of delta sigma equals half of delta p.

He said he guessed the entropy would have to equal four
Unless the Second Law would bring it down a couple more.
But, then, it might be seven if the Carnot Law applied,
Or it almost might be zero if the delta t should slide.

The professor read his paper with a corrugated brow,
For he knew he'd have to grade it, but he didn't know quite how.
'Til an inspiration his cerebellum suddenly smote,
As he seized his trusty fountain pen, and this is what he wrote:

Just as you guessed the entropy, I'll have to guess your grade,
But the Second Law won't raise it to the mark you might have made.
For it might have been a hundred, if your guesses were all good,
But I think it must be zero 'til they're rightly understood.


You're Going to Give Me an A, Ha-ha!

Words: various SWILers
Music: to the tune of "They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-ha!", by Napoleon XIV

Remember when I took your course and I got on my knees and begged you
for an A because I'd go berserk?

Well, you flunked me anyhow, and then my grades got worse and worse,
and now you see I've gone completely out of my mind.

And you're going to give me an A, ha-ha, you're going to give me an A,
ha-ha, hee-hee, ho-ho,

At the Coll on the Crum, with trees with labels and cursing nerds and
basket-weavers who sit and smile and figure their GPAs

And you're going to give me an A, ha-ha!

I come to class, I check books out,
and this is how you pay me back for all the kinds of bull-crap that I
read? HAH?

Well, you just wait, I'll pass it yet, and when I do I'll turn you in
to Janet Dickerson, you mangy mutt!

And you're going to give me an A, ha-ha, you're going to give me an A,
ha-ha, hee-hee, ho-ho,

In the Coll on the Crum, where work is never ready on time,

And I'll be happy to see my new transcript with each grade in quotes,

'Cause you're going to give me an A, ha-ha!


The Vulcan Academy of Science School Cheer

Words: Paula Smith
Music: "Give 'Em the Axe"

t to the x, du, dx; e to the x, dx,
cosine, secant, tangent, sine; three point one four one five nine.
Integral del dot E ds equals zero; V.A.S.!


Science Majors

To be hummed under one's breath while studying
Music: theme to "Star Blazers"

We're off to chemistry
And praying all the way
To maybe get an 'A'
*SCIENCE MAJORS*

Test tubes and a Bunsen light
Writing labs, stay up all night
Evil graders, evil laughs
How do we read all these graphs?

We must be accurate
Our error not too great
If we're not, for all this year,
That bright 'A' will disappear!

Boiling points and freezing too
We won't stop until we're through
We'll turn it in and then, on that day,
We'll get that 'A'!
*SCIENCE MAJORS*

Hurry, SCIENCE MAJORS! There are only six days left!


Electromagnetic Hymn of the Republic

Music: "Battle Hymn of the Republic"

God noticed that the universe was starting to run down,
So He turned to James Clerk Maxwell with a highly puzzled frown.
He said, "Jim, help, for if you don't 'twill be horrible to see,
When the universe begins to fade to zero entropy."

CHORUS: Glory, glory, dear old Maxwell, (three times)
And light goes shining on.

Maxwell said to God, "I thought that you were really bright.
When I set the system up I fixed the speed of light.
For c equals the inverse root of epsilon mu-nought
So light will still shine, though theologoy will not." CHORUS

Jim said to God, "Now, don't you see, displacement can't diverge,
Unless you have some charge, of course, and that must be the word.
And H is solonoidal for its curves must all be closed."
And light goes shining on. CHORUS


The Swarthmore Experience

Words: Shoshanna Green
Music: "Ash Grove" ("When I Was A Young Man")

When I was a freshman and completely naive
I never stayed out past twelve-thirty or one.
I did all my homework, including the lab books--
I didn't know better, I didn't have fun.
And I said to myself, there is something not right--
The Swarthmore Experience is not what it's claimed.
I've been here six weeks and I'm two months behind;
I know I'm pass-fail but I'm scared just the same.

The classes swept o'er me with workloads unending.
I gritted my teeth and I did what I could.
nnd I wrote in the margins of long-winded textbooks,
"The Swarthmore Experience is not any good!"
And I might have transferred, or I might have gone nuts,
Or I might have gone on without getting a clue;
But my RA she saw me, and she took pity on me,
And she told to me what I'll now tell to you.

She said, "You poor freshman, you've got it all backwards;
The Swarthmore Experience is not what you think.
It's not all those classes, it's not all that awful--
For the Swarthmore Experience you must party and drink!"
And I thought it all out, and I saw she was right,
And I'd been a fool not to see it before.
And now I don't study--I drink and I party,
And I never come home 'til three-thirty or four!


Lament to the CEP

Words: Shoshanna Green, spring 1985
Music: "Titwillow", from Gilbert & Sullivan's The Mikado

Up on old Clothier Tower a lone senior sits,
Moaning "Honors, oh Honors, oh Honors."
And he claws at his face and he bites at his lips,
Crying "Honors, oh Honors, oh Honors.
"Oh, I should have gone Honors and never been Course.
It might have been better--it couldn't be worse!
And now I am failing and filled with remorse.
Oh Honors, oh Honors, oh Honors."

"I have failed all my courses, my transcript's a mess.
Oh Honors, oh Honors, oh Honors.
My morale is low 'cause my GPA's less.
Oh Honors, oh Honors, oh Honors.
Now, those who go Honors have nothing to fear!
They can play all they want until spring senior year--
They pull seven all-nighters and they're in the clear!
Oh Honors, oh Honors, oh Honors."

He stood for a moment on Clothier so tall,
Calling "Honors, oh Honors, oh Honors."
Then he threw himself forward into that long fall,
Screaming "Honors, oh Honors, oh Honors!"
And as he looked downward, now what did he spy
But a student before him where he soon would lie?
And a note explained briefly why that student died--
"I'm Honors, I'm Honors, I'm Honors."


Waking Up Is Hard to Do

Words: Helena Weiss & Liza Knapp
Music: "Breaking Up is Hard to Do"

Don't wake me up at eight-fifteen
That's an hour that I've never seen.
If you do, then I'll be blue-
'Cause waking up is hard to do.

Remember when I used to sleep
And I spent my time counting sheep?
C'mon, baby, let's start anew
'Cause waking up is hard to do.

BRIDGE: They say that waking up is hard to do
Now I know, I know that it's true
Don't say I have to get up.
Instead of moving 'round I wish that I were laying down again

I beg of you, don't make me rise.
Let me lie here and close my eyes.
C'mon baby, you know it's true
That waking up is hard to do.

BRIDGE: They say that waking up is hard to do.
Now I know, I know that it's true.
Don't say I have to get up.
Instead of getting dressed I wish that I could get some rest again.

Remember when I used to sleep
And I spent my time counting sheep?
C'mon baby, let's start anew
'Cause waking up is hard to do.


Maxwell's Silver Hammer

Words: Jim Moskowitz and Elliott Moreton
Music: "Maxwell's Silver Hammer"

S.H. Aronsen, scientist at Brookhaven, dreamt up hypercharge
"Eotvos's errors are just too large" (a-a-arge)
Maxwell Bisicyst, future astrophysicist, read a strange discourse
"Physical Review says there's a fifth force" (o-o-orce)
So he picked up two objects at hand, and dropped them to the ground...
Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer came down before the lead.
Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer confirmed what he had read.

Back in physics class, Maxwell needs an A to pass 'Modern Gravity'
(On the midterm he put down 'M-squared C') (ee-ee-ee)
Full of merriment, tells of his experiment, teacher disagrees
"Stop inventing fanciful theories, please!" (ee-ee-ees)
But as she starts to put down an F, he does it once again...
Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer came down before the lead.
Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer confirmed what he had read.


The Physicist's Lament

Words: William Hughes
Music: "Both Sides Now", by Joni Mitchell

Extremely tiny billiard balls
Create a force on every wall,
Moving much too fast to fall:
I've looked at light that way.
But now this doesn't seem to fit,
When looking through a double slit.
And shadows blur a little bit
With this peculiar ray.

I've looked at light from both sides now,
From speck and wave, and still somehow,
It's light's illusions I recall.
I really don't know light at all.

Moving steady as can be,
With lots of simultanity.
A smooth increase in entropy:
I've looked at time that way.
But near the speed of light, I've found,
All rates of change start slowing down,
While antimatter turns things round,
And goes the other way.

I've looked at time from both sides now,
From where and whenb, and still somehow,
It's just equations I recall.
I really don't know time at all.

Yellow, red, and sometimes blue,
Just u's and d's will nicely do
To give protons, and neutrons, too:
I've looked at quarks that way.
But lambdas now are acting strange.
They're taking much too long to change.
For something's lost if something's gained,
During their strong decay.

I've looked at quarks from both sides now,
From up and down, and still somehow,
It's only hadrons I recall.
I really don't know quarks at all.


A Mathematician's Progress

Words: Professor ? Hurwitz
Music: "When I Was a Lad" by Gilbert and Sullivan

When I was a kid and went to school,
arithmetic was taught by rote and rule;
I did long division and I learned cube root;
at the rule of three I was especially astute.
I was so astute at the rule of three
that now I am the holder of a Ph.D.
(He was so astute at the rule of three
that now he is the holder of a Ph.D.)
In high school geometry I made such a mark;
the teachers called me a regular shark.
I memorized theorems through and through;
originals I never was required to do.
Originals so useless seemed to me
that now I am the holder of a Ph.D.
(Originals so useless seemed to him
that now he is the holder of a Ph.D.)
In college later I played my part;
I majored in math from the very start.
It didn't matter if I learned the stuff;
I only had to manage a successful bluff.
I managed to bluff so successfully
that now I am the holder of a Ph.D.
(He managed to bluff so successfully
that now he is the holder of a Ph.D.)
The faculty thought that I was such a jerk,
I was obviously destined for graduate work.
They gave me a job to earn some pelf,
by teaching younger morons like myself.
I taught those morons with such esprit
that now I am the holder of Ph.D.
(He taught those morons with such esprit
that now he is the holder of a Ph.D.)
Oh they had a silly rule that a thesis was required,
so I found a kind professor whose assistance I desired;
he said "Do this", and he said "Do that",
and he had my these finished up in two months flat.
It was not a brilliant thesis, but it didn't have to be,
so now I am the holder of a Ph.D.
(It was not a brilliant thesis, but it didn't have to be,
so now he is the holder of a Ph.D.)
I still had to pass the oral exam;
my only preparation was to cram, cram, cram;
the profs all said I made a very bad show,
but I knew as much at present as I ever would know.
So to get me off their hands they gave me a degree,
and now I am the holder of a Ph.D.
(So to get them off their hands they gave him a degree,
and now he is the holder of a Ph.D.)
Now students all, both far and near,
if you are thinking of an academic math career,
if you don't want to teach in a secondary school,
be careful to be guided by this golden rule.
Never, never try to show originality,
and you all may be holders of a Ph.D.
(Never, never try to show originality,
and you all may be holders of a Ph.D.!)


HELP!

Words: the Pomona chemistry students March 1989
Music: "Help!"

Help! I need somebody
Help! Not just anybody
Help! You know, I need someone
Helllllp!

When I was happy, so much happier than today
I found I never needed any help from that T.A.
But now my T.A.'s gone and things aren't like before
I got a crack in my flask
And acid's on the floor

Help me please I think I've done this wrong
And it seems as if I've been in lab too long
Help me please I've just dissolved my thong
Won't you please, please help me

Oh god, this lab's too hard, I wish I were in bed
Why did I have to go and declare myself pre-med
My Bunsen burner's broke, and gas is all about
Oh, god there goes my grade
The prof has just passed out

Help me if you can this lab is hell
And I never understood my APL
Help me save my brain before it gels
Won't you please, please help me

(sung by T.A.)
When you were happy, so much appier than today
You said you never needed any help from your T.A.
But when your T.A. left and things weren't like before
You got a crack in your flask
And acid on the floor

Help me please I tried to understand
And I don't deserve this strong a reprimand
Help me please I need your guiding hand
Won't you please, please pass me

Pass me!
Pass meeee! Oooh...


Self-Respecting Classicist

Words: Elliott Moreton '88 and Ellen Perry '87
Music: "Self-respecting Faggot" by Romanovsky & Phillips

I guess that I was destined to be the kind of geek
Who doesn't drink their Retsin * or read Homeric Greek,
And so with all the bets in,I'd say I'm not too chic--
What kind of self-respecting classicist am I?

I can't spell "sophrosyne", don't have the faintest clue,
I read Greek in translation,and sometimes Latin too;
I don't have four initials, unlike the rest of you--
What kind of self-respecting classicist am I?

[Bridge] I don't read magazines like CQ (CQ, CQ)
Don't spend my summer breaks in Italy;
And if you invite me to a wine-and-cheese reception,
I'd really rather watch TV (V-V-V-V)

I've barely heard of nomos, can't find it on a globe,
I can't interpret frescoes, and STILL can't scan an ode;
All I know of Latin, is in my frontal Loeb--
What kind of self-respecting classicist am I?

(*) -- Ellen put that in; I have no idea what it means.


The Cyberiad

Words: Stanislaw Lem

Come, let us hasten to a higher plane,
Where dyads tread the fairy fields of Venn,
Their indices bedecked from one to n,
Commingled in an endless Markov chain!

Come, every frustum longs to be a cone,
And every vector dreams of matrices.
Hark to the gentle gradient of the breeze:
It whispers of a more ergodic zone.

In Riemann, Hilbert, or in Banach space
Let superscripts and subscripts go their ways.
Our asymptotes no longer out of phase,
We shall encounter, counting, face to face.

I'll grant thee random access to my heart,
Thou'lt tell me all the constants of thy love;
And so we two shall all love's lemmas prove,
And in our bound partition never part.

For what did Cauchy know, or Christoffel
Or Fourier, or any Boole or Euler,
Wielding their compasses, their pens and rulers,
Of thy supernal sinusoidal spell?

Cancel me not-- for what shall then remain?
Abcissas, some mantissas, modules, modes,
A root or two, a torus, and a node:
The inverse of my verse, a null domain.

Ellipse of bliss, converge, O lips divine!
The product of our scalars is defined!
"Cyberiad" draws nigh, and the skew mind
Cuts capers like a happy haversine.

I see the eigenvalue in thine eye,
I hear the tender tensor in thy sigh.
Bernoulli would have been content to die,
Had he but known such `a squared cos 2 phi'!


Ode to the PR1ME

Words: Jed Hartman
Music: "American Pie," by Don MacLean

A short, short time from now
I will still remember
How I used to login every day
And I know that I had the chance
To really make those keyboards dance
And maybe just pretend we had a Cray...
But May came, and the PR1ME is leaving
And we are sitting, still believing
If we type "class 10"
We can login again...
But I know that all our fruitless tries
Will bring the teardrops to our eyes
We'll have to break computing ties
The day that PR1MOS dies.

We'll be singin':
Bye, bye, to the PR1ME of our lives
As it goes to meet its maker, that big chip in the sky
But some of us will have to give a small sigh
And mumble, "Guess it's time to learn a new operating system."
(so the last line needs work. So sue me.)

Last verse:
I met someone who'd hacked the Vax
I asked her for some helpful facts
But she said it was here to stay.
I went out to the Beardsley door
Where Harry printed, by the score,
Old files for the Seniors gone away...
In the rooms, the students typed
On Macintoshes that were hyped
By all the folks at Apple

(help! can't find a rhyme! any ideas (including fixes for especially
those last few lines)?) two old versions of the chorus:
Bye, bye, to the COMMENTS and PR1ME
To the USERS board and MAIL and all the ways to waste time
And I can't think of a suitable rhyme
But the bells are now beginning to chime
Yes, the bells are now beginning to chime...

Bye, bye, to the PR1ME and to MAIL
We'll be thinking of it every time the Vax starts to fail
And all our food will taste decidedly stale (well, I needed a rhyme)
This'll be the day that we wail.
This'll be the day that we wail.


Would you care to take a break?

Words: Tweedledee
Music: "Don't Stand so close to me" by the Police

4.0 per subject - a college fantasy.
She wants A's so badly - knows what she wants to be.
Before her, her studies - always an open book
With margins so crowded from all the notes she took.

Don't work
Don't work so
Don't work so constantly.
Please don't work (don't work so)
Don't work so constantly.

Her friends are so worried
To see how hard she tries.
When after five essays
glazed look is in her eyes
They tempt her with movies -
Each week there's something new.
But she just ignores them -
"Next week I've homework due!"

Don't work
Don't work so
Don't work so constantly.
Please don't work (don't work so)
Don't work so constantly.

She writes in the classroom -
Copies a lecture dry.
While those all around her -
To stay awake they try.
It's no use; they beg her -
They've used up all their tricks.
But she's got a goal now -
Nobel by thirty-six.

Don't work
Don't work so
Don't work so constantly.
Please don't work (don't work so)
Don't work so constantly.


The Chemist's Lament

Words: Tweedledee (ditto for all these laments, and he's sorry)
Music: "Both Sides Now" by Joni Mitchell

C-chains we know what to call.
Oxygen means ethanol.
The IAUPAC system covers all;
I've looked at names that way.
But double bonds start to confuse;
It's cis or trans - we have to choose;
Ancient names that we must use
To know what textbooks say.

I've looked at names from both sides now;
Correct or used; but still, somehow,
It's formulas that I recall.
I really don't know names at all.

Carbon atoms in a chain
Show me that VESPER's right again.
Covalent bonds are all the same.
I've looked at bonds that way.
(But) Electrons grab space they've found,
While antibonding breaks things down.
Electrophilics turn them 'round
and polarize the fray.

I've looked at bonds from both sides now -
From E and Z - and still, somehow,
It's IR spectrums I recall -
I really don't know bonds at all.

Acid's inverse comes to me;
Of pH eight plus; slippery;
It burns - pour onto hands to see.
I've looked at base that way.
But Bronstead-Lowry's claim is off -
At water, protons, it will scoff -
The reaction's Markovnekov
And product will not stay.

I've looked at base from both sides now -
Percent and form - and still, somehow,
It's melted test tubes I recall -
I really don't know base at all.


The Biologist's Lament


Sequencing of DNA -
In how we'll grow, it has its say.
The double helix known today -
I've looked at genes that way.
But viroids now are getting cruel.
R and F plasmids are the rule.
And reproduction's quite a tool
For diseases to play.

I've looked at genes from both sides now -
Through monks and rays - and still, somehow,
It's phenotypes that I recall -
I really don't know genes at all.


The Engineer's Lament

Supporters of every wall,
they tense and compress; holding tall
A bridge that's built to never fall.
I've looked at beams that way.
But shear and bending start to tear
Supports that evince signs of wear
From rust and rain that do not care;
The bridge begins to sway.

I've looked at beams from both sides now -
From stress and strain - and still, somehow,
It's walls collapsing I recall -
I really don't know beams at all.


Hammons

Music: "Fisheads"
Words: whoever it was that filked fisheads. (Tweedledum)

Hammons, Hammons, monotonic Hammons,
Hammons, Hammons, listen up, yawn.

At 9:30 : laughing, happy students;
At 10:20: dozing in Dupont.

Hammons, Hammons, monotonic Hammons,
Hammons, Hammons, listen up, yawn.

Hammons asks if there are any questions.
No one answers, they're asleep.

Hammons, Hammons, monotonic Hammons,
Hammons, Hammons, listen up, yawn.

One fine morning, Hammons showed a filmstrip.
Chemistry was ne'er so dull.

Hammons, Hammons, monotonic Hammons,
Hammons, Hammons, listen up, yawn.

He writes on blackboards.
He wears knit sweaters.
He can't express emotion -
He has no tone.

Hammons, Hammons, monotonic Hammons,
Hammons, Hammons, listen up, yawn.

Professor Hammons is often seen
showing transparencies
in Dupont Lecture Hall
to dozing students. Yeah.

Hammons, Hammons, monotonic Hammons,
Hammons, Hammons, listen up, yawn.

Yeah!


Still the Same

Words: Tweedledee
Music: "Still the Same" by some pop group or another

A powder white, mixing with a liquid clear,
(still the same, still the same)
No bubbles form, there is nothing we can hear.
(still the same, still the same)
To separate - the book says there's two layers, it's true -
I've no idea quite what to do -
Neither one has any hue.

(And) They look the same.
(still the same)
Everything looks just the same.
(still the same, still the same)
Will never change.
Everything looks just the same.

Setting up - before we start we're making plans;
(still the same, still the same)
Two methyl groups - in fifteen steps from cis to trans.
(still the same, still the same)
Is product there? How on earth you gonna tell?
NMR is wreaking hell.
In a way its just as well.

(Cause) They look the same.
(still the same)
Everything looks just the same.
(still the same, still the same)
Will never change
Everything looks just the same.
It's still the same ...


Organic Chemistry

Words: Tweedledum
Music: "Yellow Submarine" by (oh come on now, everyone knows this) The Beatles

In the town where I was schooled
Lived a prof who talked to me;
And he told me of his life
In a lab of chemistry.
So we walked up to Dupont
'till we found room 223,
And we live within a lab
Of organic chemistry.

We all study Organic Chemistry,
Organic chemistry, organic chemistry.
We all study organic chemistry,
Organic chemistry, organic chemistry.

Microlab is much adored.
Microlabbers never bored.
As the vanes begin to spin;

We all study Organic Chemistry,
Organic chemistry, organic chemistry.
We all study organic chemistry,
Organic chemistry, organic chemistry.

And we do the labs with ease -
Every one of us has all we need.
All in micro, naturally;
It's organic chemistry.

We all study Organic Chemistry,
Organic chemistry, organic chemistry.
We all study organic chemistry,
Organic chemistry, organic chemistry.


A RA (prounounced ra)

Words: Tweedledee
Music: "Johnny comes marching home"

Another knock - the same old sound -
A RA, a RA
A need for somthing to be found;
A RA, a RA
The quadmates come, you know all four -
They've all lost the keys to the lock on their door.
(It's) A hopeless job directing the quadmates home.

A R.A.ee complains to you
A RA, a RA
"It's 3 AM, what can I do?"
A RA, a RA
"I've shushed the people in these halls
The music's so loud that I can't hear my calls."
(And) you'll get no sleep the noise is so bad at home.

We're out of pressure in our showers;
A RA, a RA
The wait for water's taking hours.
A RA, a RA
So find the leak, the pipes were old;
Call physical plant and they'll put you on hold.
(And) we're all unclean cause water is gone at home.

The power's dead; the lights have burst -
A RA, a RA
The frosh have gone from worse to worst;
A RA, a RA
Drunken partying is the norm -
They're fighting with water guns through the dorm.
And you won't go back - they're tearing apart your home.


The SAGA Lament
Words: Tweedledee
Music: "Both Sides Now" by Joni Mitchell

Protein intake keeps me up;
There's salt within my cola cup;
We're socializing while we sup.
I've looked at brunch that way.
But cheese here comes out of a vat -
A kind that would not tempt a rat;
And ptomaine poisoning's where it's at -
That cake is here to stay.

I've looked at brunch from both sides now -
From hues and taste - and still, somehow,
It's Doc refusing I recall.
I really don't want brunch at all.


Let's Find a Bed

Music: 'Let's Go to Bed' by the Cure

I am freezing cold - where is there a quilt?
Turning, turning blue with all of the insects on the floor
Dream of a place where it's warm or even like pitt.
Just us and Swat together again -
And were all out here in the rain.

Have other housing i don't
Have food for eating i don't
Hot bath for washing in i don't
But i won't say it if you won't say it oh

You think you're tired now but wait until three
Wishing for a drier room - remember from the school year
Past - midnight patrols again we've got to move a place less tame
Half alive out in the rain
it's a chilly game, a tiring game

And i've no food if you don't
And i've no house if you don't
And i've no money if you don't
And i won't play it if you won't play it
oh

It's too dark to see now - tell me which is the way
Wonder if we'd lose if we just broke into Hicks
Through a shut window and into the bathoom
The insects come with us as we lay here and were never alone

But i don't sleep if you don't
And i don't eat if you don't
And i've no patience if you don't
And i won't take it if you won't take it

oh
let's find a bed
oh
let's find a bed


Man of La Muncha

Words: Jim Moskowitz and Jessica Hines
Music: "The Impossible Dream"

To march down to Sharples again
to face the undentable slime
to eat the inedible pita
to get to our classes on time

To wait for the glasses to come
to find a dispenser that works
to hope that the juice hasn't run out
to live through the management's quirks

This is my quest
to choke down my food
to swallow each forkful
no matter how crude
To stand in long lines
to make jokes about spam
to be willing to march to the big room for
ketchup and jam!

But I know, If I'll only be true to this miserable quest,
that my tum will get heartburn and fail-
I'll be laid to my rest.

And my friends look at me and they laugh
as I try to find something to eat
as I strive, with my desparate hunger,
To Munch On That Mystery Meat!


The Swarthmorian Lament

Words: Tweedledee
Music: "Both Sides Now" by Joni Mitchell

Seven hours every night
Will keep me happy, feeling bright;
Breakfast-time at eight's all right.
I've looked at sleep that way.
But now this week is getting long;
My thirteenth essay seems all wrong.
I've no-doz when my coffee's gone -
An everlasting day.

I've looked at sleep from both sides now -
From dreams and books - and still, somehow,
With bleary mind I can't recall -
I really dont know sleep at all.


The SUN Lab

Words: Jed Hartman
Music: "I've been working on the railroad"

I've been working in the Sun Lab,
working here all night.
Now my program almost works, but
it's still just not quite right.
Can't you hear the bells a-ringing,
toll out the hours of the day;
there's Security a-shouting,
"Time to go away!"
Time to go away, time to go away, time to go and get some sle-e-eep.
Time to finish up, time to hand it in, time to get some sleep.
Someone in the SunLab's not working;
someone's in the SunLab, I kno-o-o-ow.
Someone in the SunLab is sleeping;
it's me -- that's how I know
(I'm singing,
grep, make, twiddle I/O;
editing goes so slo-o-o-ow;
cc, dbx -- oh!
there's that damn bug a-gain).

I've been working on a paper
all this week and more.
All my thoughts have turned to vapor;
mind and brain are sore.
Can't you hear the students typing,
pound out the paragraphs of slurk;
Can't you hear consultants screaming,
"MacWrite just won't work!"
Software doesn't work, papers won't get done, time to go and get some sle-e-eep;
Print it out in Times, print it if you can, time to get some sleep.
Someone here in Beardsley is tired,
Someone's sick of writing 'bout Ho-o-o-olt
Someone here in Beardsley is wired,
on coffee, Coke, and Jolt,
and singing,
type, stare, cut a line here,
print, and wait for thoughts to cle-ear
What's that you said about Lear?
It's almost o-ver now.


Topology Tonight

Words: Elliot Moreton '88
Music: "Comedy Tonight"

Something essential
Something simplicial
Something for everyone
Topology tonight!
Something amusing
Something confusing
Cycles mod boundaries
Topology tonight!
No Galois groups
No exp or ln
Bring on the manifolds, retracts, and Don!
Cartesian products
Study-break potlucks
Seminars that run past twelve at night
Algebra tomorrow
Topology tonight!

Something that's Hausdorff
Something that's Lindelof
Something for everyone
Topology tonight!
Something that's clever
Something that'd never
Be thought up by anyone
Topology tonight!
No column space
No Riemann sums
Bring on the liftings and whatever-morphisms! (sorry)
Order relations
Strong deformations
Theorems abstruse and recondite
Algebra tomorrow
Topology topology topology topologyyyyyyyy . . . tonight!


Banned from Orgo

Words: Tweedledee and! Tweedledum
Music: "Banned from Argo"

One snowy day in lab we tried a new experiment.
We put it in Ms. Lehman's drink to see how well it went.
When she began to smile and prance and caper happily,
We knew we'd found a menu for commercial LSD.

That's why we're banned from Orgo, every one.
Banned from Orgo, just for having a little fun.
We spent a jolly lab time there for just one hour or two;
Now Hammonds does not know quite what to do.

One day a slow reaction did delay the lab a bit.
Fisher told us that he found more heat appropriate.
We turned the burner quite far up - you should have seen the flames.
The ceiling's gone but the reaction was completed just the same.

That's why we're banned from Orgo, every one.
Banned from Orgo, just for having a little fun.
We spent a jolly lab time there for just two hours or three;
From Chemistry we've finally gotten free.

We spilled some butene on the desk; Fisher said "never mind";
He told us that some acetone would clean it up just fine.
If acetone will clean it, a good acid must do more;
The hole goes through the basement - some fine day we must explore.

That's why we're banned from Orgo, every one.
Banned from Orgo, just for having a little fun.
We spent a jolly lab time there for just three hours or four;
Now Orgo does not want us any more.

My laboratory partner said "You know, it's quite a shame;
It strikes me burner plates do not do justice to their name."
Before Ms. Lehman checked our set we added some florine;
Ms. Lehman's burns are healing and her new wig looks quite keen.

That's why we're banned from Orgo, every one.
Banned from Orgo, just for having a little fun.
We spent a jolly lab time there for just four hours or five;
We're lucky we got out of there alive.

Mixed Ether, Bromine, and Benzene to get an awful brew.
Asked of Fisher, "Smell this and then tell us what to do."
Gasping, falling, green he turned from smell of sickly brine -
At last we'll finally make it down to Sharples right on time.

That's why we're banned from Orgo, every one.
Banned from Orgo, just for having a little fun.
We spent a jolly lab time there for just five hours or six;
We'll have to find some other class for kicks.

Our experiment with limonene it was the stuff of rhyme -
It quickly filled up all Dupont with black and gooey slime.
We wisely turned our tails and fled; Ms. Lehman had to stay.
We suppose with lots of acetone she'll get it clean someday.

That's why we're banned from Orgo, every one.
Banned from Orgo, just for having a little fun.
We spent a jolly lab time there for just nine hours or ten;
And Fisher does not want us back again.


Puff the Fractal Dragon

Music: Puff the Magic Dragon

No plain fanfold paper could hold that fractal Puff --
He grew so fast no plotting pack could shrink him far enough.
Compiles and simulations grew so quickly tame
And swapped out all their data space when Puff pushed his stack frame.

CHORUS:
Puff the fractal dragon was written in C,
And frolicked while processes switched in mainframe memory.
Puff the fractal dragon was written in C,
And frolicked while processes switched in mainframe memory.

Puff, he grew so quickly, while others moved like snails
And mini-Puffs would perch themselves on his gigantic tail.
All the student hackers loved that fractal Puff
But DCS did not like Puff, and finally said, "Enough!"

(chorus)

Puff used more resources than DCS could spare.
The operator killed Puff's job -- he didn't seem to care.
A gloom fell on the hackers; it seemed to be the end,
But Puff trapped the exception, and grew from naught again!

(chorus)


Never Enough

Words: Tweedledee
Music: "Synchronicity II" by the Police

Another Swarthmore exam week morning -
White faces rising from Cornell.
We're shouting chemistry to passing total strangers;
We're all prepared to go through hell.

Thousand pages more to read - exam in twenty minutes;
But we know all this studying is fake.
Johnny breaks frustration with a food fight -
They're out of bread. Ok, so we'll throw cake.

Many miles away, US paratroops fly in
to a small border war.

Another psych exam has started.
There's strip searches for cheat sheets at the door.
The teacher wants our memories we've long ago discarded;
We know much less - s'ok we'll write much more.

Choosing section's best we get a twenty just from guessing;
We're making idle patterns on our sheets.
And every single essay asking for dream analysis
Gets neo-freudian response.

Many miles away, there's a US - Russia clash
On a small border war.

Another lit exam has ended.
There's no more chance to write our lore.
We spend a weekend filled with wild and drunken parties.
The grades come out and "Incomplete"'s our score.

Hangovers ablaze we try to finish all our makeup -
Quick approaching deadlines make us fear.
We see our graduation looming in the future
If only they will let us back next year.

Many miles away,
A hand poises in the air
To launch missles everywhere
For a small border war.

Many miles away ... (repeat 3 times)


The Revenge of 16H

Words: Ed Bernstein and Jeff Hildebrand, January 1989
Music: Battle Hymn of the Republic

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the solving of the proof
I've got down ev'ry letter, there was no time off to goof
For when he grades our notebooks he will be less than ruth
And Klotz goes scribbling on.

Chorus: Gory, gory Linear Algebra
Gory, gory Linear Algebra
Gory, gory Linear Algebra
And Klotz is scribbling on.

I've got down every Eg Thm Def i.e. and viz.
The handwriting is mine but the mathematics' his
But confusion, muddy thinking, grammer messups all mine is
As Klotz goes scribbling on.
Chorus

The Honor with this section, well it isn't hard to see
Our surviving is a miracle we've all earned PhDs
When I've gone to ask my 'mates for help they've all been seeking me
And Klotz went scribbling on.
Chorus

To multiply two matrices is not that hard to do,
In class we do examples which consist of 2 by 2s
But lurking in our homework are matrices rank 22,
While Klotz keeps scribbling on.
Chorus

Our homework is horrific--it took us 20 hours
We were working all together, the grader 'fore it cowers
The A was split between us and 1/16 part is ours
As Klotz went scribbling on.

Chorus

Well, we didn't buy a textbook 'cause that could be deceiving
The money that we've saved is for the therapy we're receiving
And when he hands the final out, "It's shitty, we're all leaving"
But Klotz kept scribbling on.
Chorus


Ode to the Overworked

Words: Hildebaby, March 1989
Music: "Titwillow" by Gilbert and Sullivan

I've twenty five pages to write before noon.
Yes an all-nighter, all-nighter, all-nighter.
The stress of all of this work will make me a loon.
From an all-nighter, all-nighter, all-nighter.

On the desk in front of me are three problem sets.
And they say that this is as good as it gets.
When it's over and done will I have no regrets.
Oh an all-nighter, all-nighter, all-nighter.

With five hundred pages of Joyce to get through,
It's an all-nighter, all-nighter, all-nighter.
There is but only one thing left to me to do,
Pull an all-nighter, all-nighter, all-nighter

Then my R.A. gave these words to poor me,
Told me there was no need to go out of my tree.
The answer is truly quite easy to see.
You just womba, oh womba, yes womba.


The Freshman Roomdraw Lament

Words: Hildebaby, April 1989
Music: "Who's Next" by Tom Lehrer

Well we gotta choose, but that's not bad
Lots of rooms here to be had,
My number came out bad, but I'll survive
Gotta be more 'neath eight nine five.
What's left?

Worth was the first one up to fill
When d'ya think the next one will.
Mertz is a-going pretty fast,
Just thank the Lord that you're not last.
What's left?

C/D, E/F, A and B
Wharton's going one, two three.
So Danawell starts to fill
Anything will fit the bill.
The walls may be of cinder block
It's better than living without a lock.
What's left.

Well Pittenger get its run,
Condemnation is so much fun.
We finally know there are no more
When good old Willets locks its door.
What's left, what's left, what's left? What's left!


Multi-Variable Land

Words: Jeff Hildebrand and Ed Bernstein, May 1989
Music: "Home on the Range"

Oh give me a G [spoken: of x and y]
With a nice boundary
That's defined over all S.
There are partials galore
And equations more.
It's a problem to cause great stress.

Home, home in the range,
Where the lines and the surfaces lie.
If the function is nice,
You just integrate twice
A theorem by Green says why.

Oh give me a space
And I'll find the surface
Co-ordinates polar or plain
But I'd rather do
It in dimension two
And put myself out of my pain.

I'm at home, home in the plain
With a function of x and of y
But a cone or a sphere
Brings a terrible tear
That's described by T of rho, theta, phi.


Christ, you know it ain't easy

Music: "The Ballad of John and Yoko" by the Beatles

Block has IC leftwards at 50
Diff Eq's are almost a snap
Block hits a spring and when friction's the thing
Man who knows if it is gonna bounce back

Christ you know it aint easy
You know how hard it can be
But the fourth convolution
Gives velocity c

Pendula are not swinging freely
Coupled by a spring pulling high
Laplace won't do but we're gonna pull through
Assume solution of Arctan sigma i

Christ you know it ain't easy
You know how hard it can be
But with sixth order systems
I can't keep track of dt


Barcodes

Words: Hildebaby, August 1989
Music: "Memory" from Cats

Boredom, I'm so sick of these barcodes
Take the book from the shelf
Open up, stick it in.
As you do this just think there're twenty thousand more
Then the tedium will set in.

Barcodes, there's no end to these barcodes
Sitting there on wax sheets
It's this all summer
I remember the life I knew outside the stacks
So this job it's a bummer.

Slouching forms of tired students
The sleepiness of McCave
The buzzer sounds, another day is over
And everyone leaves in a wave.

Browsing, I might just do some reading
Here is a good book or two
But for now I must work
And for a few more weeks until the project is through
'Mid the barcodes I will lurk.


SWILshirt

Words: Hildebaby, September 1989
Music: "Helmet" by the Bobs

I can remember how it started
I followed the seniors - I dreamed of the graduates
They looked so happy in their cotton printed shirtwear
I saw that always they were smiling

My RA feared I was abnormal
I'd take out my clothing and throw it in the hall
People are happy when they know that they're dismembered
Just let me tell you why I'm filking

I've got my SWIL shirt on
Nothing will do me wrong
I've got my SWIL shirt on
Ya-da-ba-da-ba-da-ba-da-ba

In folded stacks they sit in every dresser drawer
Down in the small room - sitting in chairs
From distant ML to the fortress-like building McCabe
There is SWIL on every single shirt

My roommate tells me I'm retreating
But how can he argue with comfortibility?
If all would only come just once to a SWIL meeting
All Swat would soon be wearing a shirt.

Come try my SWIL shirt on
Nothing will do you wrong
Come try my SWIL shirt on
Ya-da-ba-da-ba-da-ba-da-ba

In folded stacks they sit in every dresser drawer
Many colors in every shade

Come try my SWIL shirt on
Nothing will do you wrong
Come try my SWIL shirt on
Ya-da-ba-da-ba-da-ba-da-ba


The Swat Warp

Words: Hildebaby (with help from Alex Weirich)
Music: "The Time Warp" from Rocky Horror

It's astounding - Time is fleeting
Madness takes its toll
But listen closely - Not for very much longer
I've got to keep control
I remember being accepted
Thinking I'd made it big
The pressure then hit me - McCabe would be calling
Let's do the Swat warp again
Let's do the Swat warp again
It's just a jump to the left
Don't even look to the right
With your head in the books
With papers to write
But it's the midterm crunch
That starts to drive you insane
Let's do the Swat warp again
Let's do the Swat warp again.

It's so busy - Oh vacation free me
So they can't fail me - No not for now
For another semester - With professors to pester
I'm confused - don't know how
With a turn of a page or - You've declared a major
And nothing can ever be the same
You're spaced out in sem'nar
Like you've gone off far
Let's do the Swat warp again
Let's do the Swat warp again

Well I was walking down to lunch
Just having a think
When the evilest of thoughts made my old heart sink
Well it scared me good, and I started to sweat
Here came the real world - I'm not ready yet
Well it panicked me and I made a choice
Grad school maybe - Dunno what to do.
Make me a freshling again
Make me a freshling again.
It's just a jump to the left
Don't even look to the right
With your head in the books
With papers to write
But it's the finals crunch
That really drives you insane
Let's do the Swat warp again
Let's do the Swat warp again.


Packing Up To Go Away

Words: Jed Hartman
Music: "Someone Else's Story," from _Chess_

Long ago,
I moved into this dorm room;
got here and unpacked
the things I'd brought along.
Now it's time
to go home for the summer --
I thought I'd get it all packed;
looks like I was wrong.
Lately, there seems to be ten times the amount
of stuff that I've got -- it's grown impossible to count;
and yet,
I think it just might fit,
if I squeeze a little bit.

This could all
be someone else's problem
if I gave my stuff
to someone else to keep;
I could go
away on my vacation,
maybe even get a
couple hours' sleep.
But sadly, I know I'll want this stuff back next year,
and sadder than that, I know I'll have to leave it here,
so I'm
packing up to go;
will I notice if there's snow?

To put things in suitcases just hurts my back and shoulders;
I could be packing
('til) I'm eighty-five or older.

These old socks
are someone else's roommate's;
I don't know quite whose, but
certainly not mine.
Taking walks
is something I could do if
(I) didn't have to pack, or
I had twice the time.
And if tomorrow comes before I am done,
I'll still be packing -- it's a quarter after one!
I'll leave,
and leave this stuff to rot --
Look at all the stuff I've got!
I'm packing all the stuff I've got.


Lab's Been Good to Me So Far

Words: Tweedledee
Music: "Life's been good to me so far"

I'm sniffing ether, my brain it can't wait.
Hallucinations make me feel great.

I do reactions; they take me all day.
It's hard to stop when flames keep you away.

They say I'm crazy but I have a good time
In the long lab (It's a long lab).
They say I'm lazy but it takes all my time.
Lab's been good to me so far.

The centerfuge hits ten thousand or more.
I balanced wrongly; it went through the floor.

They bought pipet-men; I think they've been had.
I drew up acid; my data is bad.

Lucky I'm awake after all I've been through
In the long lab (It's a long lab).
I should not eat, but sometimes I still do.
Lab's been good to me so far.

I have a roommate; he's home all the time.
Ain't never seen him - they tell me he's fine.

I sleep in lab rooms; blow out the bench.
My freinds they come in; pass out from the stench.

Lucky I'm alive after all I've been through
In the long lab (It's a long lab).
I should not sleep, but sometimes I still do.
Lab's been good to me so far.


SWIL Crazy After All These Years

Words: Jennie Jacobson '83
Music: "Still Crazy After All These Years," by Paul Simon

I met my old school chum, at the con last night.
She had on an old SWIL shirt, so did I.
And we talked about old SWILies and what they were doing now,
SWIL crazy after all these years.
SWIL crazy after all these years.

I'm not the kind of fan who goes to programming
but I like to talk of strange things with my friends.
And I'm kinda fond of filk songs, 'though they sometimes hurt my ears.
SWIL crazy after all these years.
SWIL crazy after all these years.

Brunch in the morning
school food
Sharples
Laughing at the things we say.
We'll never worry
Why should we?
We won't let it fade.

Now I sit with my SWAPA and I read the zines,
and I can tell the weirdness lingers on.
It can last forever, if it can last ten years.
SWIL crazy after all these years.
SWIL crazy after all these years.


Little Fuzzy Seminars

Words: Hildebaby
Music: "Little Fuzzy Animals" by Frank Hayes

When you look at the catalog you may not like what you see
There's a physics class of every type and there's topology
Orgo chemistry up in DuPont where everybody cowers
And there's little fuzzy seminars that last five hours.
There are little fuzzy seminars
Little furry seminars
Little fuzzy seminars
That last five hours.

Now not all of the courses there should fill you full of dread
For topology has its film fest to which we look ahead
But the workload for the English requires several looks
For those little fuzzy seminars read ten fat books
For the little fuzzy seminars
Little furry seminars
Little fuzzy seminars
Read ten fat books

When class time comes around now, you'll have to find a seat
That comfortably and cozy and maybe near the heat
And though you know that Swarthmore isn't all that cheap,
Still the little fuzzy lecturers will make you sleep
Oh those little fuzzy lecturers
Little furry lecturers
Little fuzzy lecturers
Will make you sleep

When the workload starts to mount with the pressure getting high
The physicists can do but half and hope they will get by
But the history types are stuck between a hard place and a rock
Must write little fuzzy papers before 8 o'clock
Write those little fuzzy papers
Write those little furry papers
Write those little fuzzy papers
Before 8 o'clock


Unprepared

Words: Hildebaby
Music: "Be Prepared" by Tom Lehrer

Unprepared! That's the students' marching song,
Unprepared! As to class you slink along.
Unprepared to know the classics very well
Don't write wordy tracts on prose if you can't spell.

Unprepared! To defend your point of view
Don't speak up if you don't know what to do
Keep those essays buried in a pile that's exceptionally large
And be careful not to show them to the professor in charge
For you only will wither as he glared.
Unprepared.

Unprepared! That the student's constant tale,
Unprepared! And in sloth you will regale.
Just vegitate in the lectures, that's the way,
So that you sleep a good percentage of the day.

Unprepared! And be careful not to read,
Those ten books with your current reading speed.
If your looking for a lecture of a new and different kind
And you come across a major which was recently designed
Don't be thoughtful, don't be witty, as if you cared,
Unprepared!


No Particular Tune At All

Words: Ed Bernstein
Music: Chuck Berry

Filkin' with SWILfolk down in Bond
The Filkers are filkin' my favorite song
The voices are echoin' 'round the hall
To no particular tune at all.

Filk a song once on a time
Worked hard to make it scan and rhyme
I must admit I stretched a bit
And added a couple more syllables here 'n' there than by rights ought to fit
I took it down to the filk fest
And handed copies out to all the rest
They started to sing, I listened enthralled
To no particular tune at all.

Right off I said this would not do
I started to sing the tune I knew
I sang it fierce and I sang it loud
My chin was high, my eye was proud
Guess I deserved what I did get
The others sang it louder yet
Belting it out and havin' a ball
With no particular tune at all

I got some voices to join my side
To outsing the others we tried and tried
Our voices got louder and louder still
A Swarthmore first - Worth disturbed by SWIL
Security responds to a frantic call
To no particular tune at all

We don't need a permit, got no booze
We can sing just how we choose
Where they may let the notes fall
To no particular tune at all.


It's a Small Room After All

Words: Ed Bernstein
Music: It's a Small World After All

It's a room for folkdance, a room for SWIL
Tho' the food you eat there will make you ill,
There's a feeling you feel,
When you're there every meal,
It's a small room after all.

Chorus:
It's a small room after all
It's a small room after all
It's a small room after all
It's a small, small room.

There's the Parrish clique and the ML horde
And some refugees from the Drama Board
If it's just me and you
There's a table for two
In the small room, after all.

Chorus

Well, we might get caught in a napkin fight
and they throw us out ev'ry Friday night
but the big room's a joke
and the middle one's got smoke
so it's the small room after all.

Chorus


FILKBOOK #3 /