An Ode to Fresher’s Week | Surgo

 

An Ode to Fresher’s Week

Earlier in the year, we held a competition to write a poem which best summed up fresher’s week. Thank you everyone for your submissions –  We now have a winner, and some other runners up have been included!

Love and kisses,

Surgo

Ode to University

The start of September, that’s when we arrive,

Big fish, small ponds, fresh faced and alive

With excitement and awe, we enter the gates

Of Murano, a new home, a new world with new mates,

Raw ideation of what we’ll become,

Set loose on the world, without dad, without mum.

 

And right from the start, whilst wailing “GO TEAM”,

The helpers arrive with their high self esteem.

Slowly time passes, we find the GU,

A sanctimonious castle, encompassed with poo.

Where once there was HIVe, the fortress of love,

Living up now in heaven, looking down from above.

We’re told the QM is gothy and shite,

But cheesy is class, so it’s actually alright.

 

We discover a cult, a medic ‘brigade’,

A yellow committee in which no-one gets paid.

Helmed by a ginger the size of Jaap Stam,

And Vice’d by a ninja who’s from Vietnam

We find the free booze, for three pounds a head,

And start waking up fearful in some random’s bed.

 

Every October, we travel afar,

To SNIMS and to sports, all we want is the bar.

There’s always that guy, drinks too much – falls asleep.

And that girl who does netball, chased around by a creep (from Dundee)

Then there’s the Ceilidh, with many a waltz

Where we let off the English for all of their faults

Just before Christmas, the grand MedChir ball,

Where all the girls flee from that Fifth year Rep Paul.

In March after finals, the Scrubby ensues,

Where Prof. Walters prays that we don’t make the news.

 

The years come and go, and nothing does change.

We go for the pints, feeling old no-less strange.

At the end of the day, without MedChir we’d cry,

So long and farewell, adieu and goodbye!

 

by Duncan King, Iain Johnson

Vodka, Oh vodka

How can it be

That I cannot spend

a mere day without thee

I wake up in the morning

Feeling like death

My flat mates are moaning

I have vodka on my breath

I look up at the sky

The light has dimmed

I am ready to cry

And feel weak limbed

But my friends assure me

Its only one week

So we go for a pre

I have kept the streak

by Sherief Kholeif

There once was a patient named Francis

Who had a big massive great abscess

Of course it was drained

And pus it did rain

To keep my clothes clean was no success

by Joe Mullaly

Winner

Winner

Congratulations!

Our winners of the ‘Ode to Fresher’s Week’ Contest are Duncan King  and Iain Johnson

A haiku on starting revision;
No no no no no,
No no no no no no no,
No no no no no.
by Conor Horscroft

Here’s an ode to fresher’s week,
Seven days of fun that are never bleak.
Fairs and stalls with leaflets galore,
So much to do you’ll never bore.
At night both unions come alive,
Where to go? You can’t decide!
In the morning heads are sore,
With fuzzy memories of the night before.
At the end you’re sad to see it’s through,
And everyone’s stuck with that same old flu.
But here at Glasgow you can bet,
That fresher’s is a week you’ll never forget!

by Amy Turnbull

I hear medchir ball is a hoot

So I’d love to get my hands on the loot

Better give my girlfriend the other ticket

Or I’ll be in a sticky wicket

And she won’t let me put it in her doot

 

by Blazza McClymont

rush. late for placement

Cold looks make me wonder how

I still love Viper

————

wisdom deep in books

The Wolfson is a prison

Which i know too well

————

keen bean, and avid

yearns to work, yet will soon see

beer bar is calling

————

Fear. Monday begins

we look forward through the chill

to MedChir for warmth

————

“why must we know this”?

all is examinable

the only reply

————

by Chris Brennan