[handwritten by Gunn]
Written by O�Brien.

[printed song lyrics]
   AT PFAFF�S.

 		         ����

I.
While sitting one night in the cellar so queer
						At Pfaff�s,
And eating my bretzel and drinking my beer
						At Pfaff�s.
A ditty, perhaps out of solitude bred,
Came suddenly singing itself through my head,
	At Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s.
	A song to be chanted at Pfaff�s.
II.
This song is a sort of Bohemian creed	
						Of Pfaff�s,
Where authors are fed and the land lord is fee�d
						At Pfaff�s.
A little philosophy honest and true,
With drink and good fellowship mixed in it too.
	At Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s.
	Credo pater omnipotens, Pfaff.

III.
When any good fellow comes down to our place
						At Pfaff�s,
With �nary a red� and a bill in his face
						At Pfaff�s,
Why don�t let us give him a moment to think,
But chase the blue devils with oceans of drink,
	At Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s.
	Let his bill be receipted at Pfaff�s.
IV.
And when there comes down here a gallant comrade
						At Pfaff�s,
With a hole in his heart that a woman has made	
						At Pfaff�s,
Why we�ll close up the wound with good wine and
	good wit,
Till the fellow won�t know that he ever was hit
	At Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s.
	O! the true �culapius is Pfaff!
V.
And when any one of us �hands in his chips,�
						At Pfaff�s,
No funeral sermon shall ooze from our lips	
						At Pfaff�s,
But we�ll drink to his soul in a bottle of wine,
The heavy Hungarian or leathery Rhine
	At Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s,
	�Tis the neatest of all epithets!
			VI.
So here�s to our little republic of wit, 
						At Pfaff�s,
And here�s to the bright eyes by which it is lit

[handwritten note by Gunn]
Ada Clare

[song continued]
						At Pfaff�s,
And here�s to the pencil, and here�s to the pen,
And here�s, if you please, to the Oldest of Men

[handwritten note by Gunn]
Clapp.

[song continued]
	At Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s,
	The Nestor that reigns over Pfaff�s.
			VII.
And here�s to our Poet who suffers with blight

[handwritten note by Gunn]
W. Winter.

[song continued]
						At Pfaff�s,
Who crumbles to pieces with ruin each night
						At Pfaff�s,
His Pegasus travels unfed and unshod
And even his bay-wreath is withered, by God!
	At Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s,
	Here�s our young Coliseum at Pfaff�s.
			VIII.
And here�s to the genial philosopher, too,

[handwritten note by Gunn]
Walt Whitman.

[song continued]
						At Pfaff�s,
Who glows for the many as well as the few
						At Pfaff�s,
Who don�t want to put a green shade on the sun,
Or try to make two look as if they were one
	At Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s,
	For nature is nature at Pfaff�s.
			IX.
And here�s to Pfaff, our redoubtable host,
						At Pfaff�s,
Who�s equal to cutlet, to soup, and to roast
						At Pfaff�s,
And Hermann�s an article too in our creed,
Our handsome Teutonic and quick Ganymede
	At Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s,
	Our Ganymede Hermann at Pfaff�s.
			X.
And now your attention I�ll solemnly call	
						At Pfaff�s,
To the greatest most leathery toast of them all
						At Pfaff�s,
I see the air filled with uproarious elves,
Applauding the toast as we drink to ourselves
	At Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s, at Pfaff�s.
	Here�s each fellow�s Ego at Pfaff�s!