I looked for my tribe here and there.
Wanting to belong somewhere.
All day I thought about it,
then at night I had to say it –
student life is not easy,
but being student is a wheezy,
till you find that perfect ambrosia
for a soul from elsewhere
but mind of a Richardus Sophista.
So many paths to reach one
and the same goal,
but at root tribe beer becomes
continuous blood, and of old.
“Fux stoff” – they say
there’s no future for us.
“Ex-ale-tation of Ale” –
ye good ol’Catholic drink:
there’s a place for you in our heart,
our belly, our laughter, our academia –
and now on the branch of my Christmas tree!