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And in so doing he would now and then encounter a young vicar, neophyte, or undergraduate, who would exchange reminiscences of Freising with him, and who, after the fifth pint of beer, would join in the fine songs: "Vom hoh'n Olymp herab ward uns die Freude" and "Brüderchen, er-her-go bi-ba-hamus."
Glaenzt deine /Urn/ dereinst in majestaets'chen /Pompe/, Dann weint der /Patriot/ an deinem /Katacombe/. Doch leb! dein /Torus/ sey von edler Brut ein /Nest/, Steh' hoch wie der /Olymp/, wie der /Parnassus/ fest! Kein /Phalanx/ Griechenland mit roemischen /Ballisten/ Vermoeg /Germanien/ und Hendel zu verwuesten.
I told my amazing story from beginning to end, interrupted by many Hoo-oo-oo-oo's from McMurray. "You may laugh," said I, "but to have a mythical being out of Olympiodorus quartered on you for life is no jesting matter." "Olymp ?" began McMurray. "Yes," I snapped.
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