PHHH #822.4 
Date:  April 22, 2001 
Weather: Distempered 
Set by: Discomfort 
Location:  Deer Creek condos, Scudders Mill Road, to Sarnoff Corporation parking lot 
Time: 1:45? 
Hashers: Geezer, Nonsensei, Tony, Saving Ryan's Privates, Brendan, Mr. Rogers, Yellow 
Ball, Llloda, Karen Zdismal, Discomfort, Ouipee, Tabletoes, Definitely Not a Rat's Ass, 
Hand Solo. 
MIH (Missing in Hash, presumed lost): Hand Solo, Yellow Ball 
You'll All Be Sorry When I'm Gone (no apologies needed if you don't like Kipling) 

You may talk o' chips and beer 
When you're quartered safe in 'ere, 
An' you're on summer hashes an' Rosedale Park's it; 
But when it comes to April 
You makes your case fed'ral, 
An' you'll lick the bloomin' soles of 'er that sets it. 
Now in Princeton's sunny clime, 
Where I used to spend my time 
A-servin' of 'Is Majesty the Geez'r, 
Of all them palefaced crew 
The most anxious hare I knew 
Was our Princeton Hash's conscience, Dis Comfort. 

      She was "Dis! Dis! Dis! 
You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Dis Comfort! 
      Hi! slippery petite! 
      Beercheck, get it!  Tooty sweet! 
You freckle-haired old hasher, Dis Comfort." 

She would set in swampy woods 
Even Asian vets thought were good; 
An' she knew all too well the use o' fear. 
If we charged shiggy and got cut, 
You could bet your bloomin' nut, 
She'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear. 
With 'er directions in 'er 'ead, 
She'd see us ford the creek with dread, 
An' watch us till the whistles made "On On," 
But with all 'er nervous fears 
She'd forget to bring some beers 
When she went to tend the morons on the field! 

      It was "Dis! Dis! Dis!" 
With the hunters' bullets kickin' from their fort. 
      When the cartridges ran out, 
      You could hear the FRBs shout, 
"Hi! bring tourniquets an' Dis Comfort!" 

I shan't forgit the night 
When I dropped be'ind the hash 
With a warrant to appear before the court. 
I was chokin' mad with thirst, 
An' the nurse that spied me first 
Was our good old grinnin', moanin' Dis Comfort 
She lifted up my 'ead, 
An' she plugged me where I bled, 
An' she guv me 'arf-a-pint o' Hydro-Sport: 
It was crawlin' and it stunk, 
But of all the drinks I've drunk, 
I'm gratefullest to one from Dis Comfort. 

      It was "Dis! Dis! Dis! 
'Ere's Tony with a compound fractured ankle; 
      'E's chawin' up the ground, 
      An' 'e's kickin' all around: 
For Gawd's sake mercy kill 'im, 'e's a wanker!" 

The on-ins she supplied 
Was nothin' much before, 
An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind, 
For a piece o' cheesy poof 
An' some water from the roof, 
Was sometimes all the refreshment she could find. 
When the sweatin' hashers swooned 
On the pavement's afternoon, 
Where the 'eat gave your bloomin' eyebrows the 'ots, 
We shouted "Are You!" 
Till our throats were bricky-flue, 
Then we wopped 'er 'cause she couldn't find her dots. 

      It was "Dis! Dis! Dis! 
You 'eathen, where the mischief 'are your marks? 
      You put some flour on the trees 
      Or I'll give you ticks an' fleas 
If you don't find us a true trail, Dis Comfort!" 

She set a course awry 
An' lost two hashers bye and bye, 
'Fore 'er husband dragged 'er off to ol' Oxford, 
She gave us fudge an' brew, 
An' just before she flew, 
"I 'ope you liked your hash," sez Dis Comfort. 
So I'll meet 'er later on 
At the place where she is gone-- 
Where it's always double entendus real poor; 
She'll be squattin' on the grass 
Trying not to bare 'er ass, 
But I'll get a swig in hell from Dis Comfort! 

      Yes, Dis! Dis! Dis! 
Your Spandexed holey tights Dis Comfort! 
      Though I've insulted you and flayed you, 
      By the livin' Gawd that made you, 
You're a better hasher than I am, Dis Comfort! 

Next Week: Nonsensei's Coral Sea Eve