On Dec. 7, E.T.N.C. met Wesley
    Mighty honors for to win,
All the honors we got
    Was defeat -- many skinned shins.
From the college halls
    Each one marched along,
Carrying beneath their possom
    Many a cheerful song.
"Cook" Webb went with us
    Looking fine in his old brown suit,
His yell was this: "Get 'em boys!
    We'll make those lobsters root."
When the whistle blew for play,
    Each boy ran to his place.
Fame was too the Wesley crowd
    It showed in every face.
The first kick-off went smoothly,
    No interference to hold,
And down by down they went crashing ---
    At last through ET's goal.
Old Johnson got vicious,
    Pushed with all his might,
"Hold the line boys, we've got them,"
    "Get off of me! Don't squeeze so tight."
McKenzie ran like a deer,
    Dock hurt his knee,
Crow couldn't fly to goal,
    Dial coud not see.
Folks went down the line,
    A Wesley guy to meet
And every time they clashed,
    He gave our little Folks a seat.
The great man, Mr. Bedwell,
    Through the center rushed
And then the yells of the crowd
    Were not a little hushed.
The Strother brothers, Bill and Sam,
    Upon the line they stood,
And when old Wesley came,
    They never lost their hood.
Smith wished and worked
    To win a mighty name,
Just then a Wesley hit him
    And knocked away his fame.
Gilstrop went into the game
    As fresh as a new born chip,
He came away carrying
    A newly parted lip.
Hendrix, new we mention,
    Who played for us right guard,
Once we heard a Wesley say:
    "Gee! But his is awful hard."
And when the game was over,
    Every face looked with a curse,
"Take it like a man" shouted Jenkins,
    "It could have been worse."
Other members we must mention,
    Stone, Miller and Ladies fair,
It seems that in the game they didn't yell, 
    The fact is, we forgot they were there.
If we ever play "Old" Wesley,
    We intend to win our fame,
We'll put in all new players,
    "Hot air" will not win a game.

Dedicated to the Wesley Football Team.