How the Leahy Stole the Fall Concert (A Poem)

How the Leahy Stole the Fall Concert

by Dr. Proust

Every brew in Chestnut Hill likes concerts a lot…
But the Leahy, who lived just north of Chestnut Hill, did NOT!
The Leahy hated concerts! Each concert season!
Now please don’t ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be his head wasn’t covered in hair.
It could be, perhaps, he fell down the Million Dollar Stairs.
But I think the most likely reason of all,
Was that his Ignacio bed was six feet too tall.

Whatever the reason he found in his pews,
He stood there on First Day, hating those brews,
Staring down from his belltower with a sour, Leahy frown,
At the brews held in hand while Montel made first down (bitch).

For he knew every brew in Chestnut Hill below,
Would be empty come rain or come snow.
“And they’re playing pong!” he snarled with a sneer,
“Tomorrow’s the fall concert and all they want is more beer!”
Then he growled, with Christian-rock guitar softly strumming.
“I MUST find some way to stop Gaga from coming!”
For Tomorrow, he knew, all the Heights girls and boys,
They’d wake up to pregame. They’d drink and enjoy!
And then! Oh the noise!
Oh the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!
That’s one thing he hated! The NOISE!
NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

Then the brews, light and dark, would be downed in a feast.
And they’d feast! And they’d feast!
And they’d FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!
They would feast on mango Ruby and beer-battered roast beast.
Which was, during Lent, something Leahy couldn’t stand in the least.

And THEN they’d do something he liked least of all!
Every brew in Chestnut Hill, the tall and the small,
Would be strewn close to together, with their drinkers’ arms swinging.
They’d stand iPhone in hand. And then Gaga would start singing!
She’d sing! And she’d sing!
And she’d SING! SING! SING! SING!
And the more the Leahy thought of this Gaga girl sing,
The more the Leahy thought, “I must stop this whole thing!”
“Why for fifteen years I’ve put up with it now!”
“I MUST stop this Gaga from coming! But HOW?”

The he got an idea! An awful idea!
THE LEAHY GOT A WONDERFUL AWFUL IDEA!
“I know just what to do!” The Leahy laughed in his throat.
And he made a quick Eagle beak and a fine down coat.
And he chuckled, and clucked, “What a great Catholic sin!”
“With these wings and these talons, I’ll look just like Baldwin!”
“All I need is a wingman…” The Leahy looked round.
But, since eagles are endangered, there were none to be found.
Did that stop old Leahy? No! The priest simply said,
“If I can’t find a parrot, I’ll hire one instead!”
So he interviewed Rombalski. Then he took some clear thread,
And he kept his hand on the back of his head.

THEN his puppet said some lines in a sweet-sounding voice
About how for safety, there was no other choice.
Then the Leahy said, “Giddap!” And the notice went down,
Toward the dorms where the brews lay on ice, golden brown.
All the glasses were shelved. The kids didn’t dare.
All the brews were all hidden after a Res Life scare.
When he came to the first little dorm in the square.
“This is Keyes North,” the old Leahy hissed,
And he climbed to the third floor, empty bags in his fist.
Then he glanced through the peephole at a freshman quite pasty
But if the Vanderslicer could break in, then so could the Leahy
He heard an RA for a moment or two,
But punched in the code and strolled right on through.
Crawled under the bed where some Bud Lights sat in a row.
“This booze,” he grinned, “is the first thing to go!”

Then he slithered and slunk, a priest out of control.
Rummaging under the bed, taking all alcohol.
Patron! And Captain! Rolling Rock! Vikingfjord!
Colt 45! Mr. Boston! Schnapps! And Coors!

And he stuffed them in bags. Then the Leahy quite sneaky
Sent all the bags to his friends in St. Mary’s.
Then he slunk to the icebox. He took the kids’ Pabst!
He took the Evan Williams. He put them in Bapst!
He cleaned out that mini-fridge that Catholic sheister
Leahy even took their 750 of Jaegermeister.
Then he stuffed them all in his bag with glee.

“And NOW!” grinned Leahy, “To stop Long Island iced teas!”
And Leahy grabbed Honest Tea, and he started to chug
When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.
He turned around fast, he didn’t see who
But it was Katie McBrew, who was not more deep than two.

Leahy had been caught by this freshman gab,
Who was in bed with a boy, violating co-hab.
She stared at Leahy and said “Baldwin, why?”
“Why are you taking our concert stash, why?”
But you know Father Leahy was so smart and so slick,
He thought up a lie and he thought it up quick!
“Why, my sweet little tot,” the fake Baldwin told,
“This beer is just too unsafe to hold.”
“So I’m taking it home to St.Mary’s, my dear.”
“I’ll drink it up there and you won’t down here.”
And his tale fooled the freshman. And he patted her head.
He gave her one sip of Christ’s blood and sent her to bed.
And when Katie McBrew went to bed with the cup,
He went out the door and took all the booze up!

Then the last thing he took was the small glass for their shots!
Then he walked down the hall, himself, the old snot.
On their walls he left nothing but the posters they got.
And the one speck of vodka left in the room,
Was in a bottle of Dasani that still would be consumed.
Then he did the same thing to the other students’ rooms.
Preventing any fun from being resumed.

IT was a quarter past nine, all the students still a-bed
All the brews, all the booze, clinking; heavy as lead.
He packed it up with the hookahs! The foam pads! The empties!
The pot! Extension cords! Condoms and R-rated movies!
Three thousand feet up! Up the rocky Heights,
He rode with his load up Million Dollar stair flights.
“Pooh pooh to the brews!” he was Jesuitly humming.
“They’re finding out now that no concert is coming!
They’re just waking up! I know just what they’ll do!
They’ll glance at The Heights for a moment or two.
Then the kids of Chestnut Hill will all cry BOO HOO!
That’s a noise,” grinned Leahy, “That I simply MUST hear!”
So he paused. And the Leahy put his hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound coming over the campus.
Starting from Lower and rising in rumpus.
But the sound wasn’t sad! Why, this sounded merry!
It couldn’t be so! But it WAS merry, VERY!
He stared down at Chestnut Hill, Leahy popped his eyes.
Then he shook, what he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every brew in Chestnut Hill, the tall and the small,
Was being drank without a concert at all!
He HADN’T stop Gaga from coming, she came!
With Poker Face blasting she came just the same.
And Leahy, with his seldom-seen-face staring below,
Stood puzzling and puzzling “How could it be so?
It came without Smirnoff! It came without Jack!
It came without Miller, High Life or Lite, bottle or draught!

And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.
Then Leahy thought of something he hadn’t before!
Maybe booze, can be bought in a store.
Natty or Rubinoff, so cheap there’s plenty more!

And what happened then? Well in Chestnut Hill they say,
Leahy’s bald head grew three hairs that day!
And the minute his heart didn’t quite feel so tight,
He shotgunned a beer in the bright morning light,
And he brought back the concert! And the brews stored in Bapst.
And he, HE HIMSELF, the Leahy, sipped on a Pabst.