To the tune of the Battle Hymn of the
Republic (‘Glory, Glory, Hallelujah’)
I’m singing you the glories of a scholar
based at Queen’s,
Who has worked now in group theory since
he was in his late teens,
Both his folks were mathematicians so it
must be in the genes;
His head goes shining on!
Galois! Galois! Jordan! Burnside!
Cauchy! Higman–Neumann–Neumann!
Galois! Galois! Jordan! Burnside!
His head goes shining on!
On his antiquated cycle Peter races here
and there,
Cracking geometric problems that caused
Euclid to despair,
Heedless of the noise and traffic and the
wind through both his hairs,
For his head goes shining on!
Galois! Galois! Jordan! Burnside!
Cauchy! Higman–Neumann–Neumann!
Galois! Galois! Jordan! Burnside!
His head goes shining on!
He can sit through countless seminars and
never once look bored,
He consumes the finest vintages the SCR
has stored,
And he serves the strongest café noir that money can afford,
His head goes shining on!
Galois! Galois! Jordan! Burnside!
Cauchy! Higman–Neumann–Neumann!
Galois! Galois! Jordan! Burnside!
His head goes shining on!
All you younger folk who see him here
should Peter’s lesson heed:
Though he’s made it now to sixty there’s
no sign he’ll go to seed,
For it’s when a man is o’er the hill he
starts to pick up speed!
And his head goes shining on!
Galois! Galois! Jordan! Burnside!
Cauchy! Higman–Neumann–Neumann!
Galois! Galois! Jordan! Burnside!
His head goes shining on!
Now we’re gathered all to praise him as
he hits the big six-O,
He is long in tooth but young at heart,
as we his friends well know!
So let’s drink a toast to honour him and
say before we go:
May his head go shining on!
Galois! Galois! Jordan! Burnside!
Cauchy! Higman-Neumann-Neumann!
Galois! Galois! Jordan! Burnside!
His head goes shining on!
(Anon. Discovered by Bill and Julia
Tompson in the archives of The Queen’s College, Oxford.)
To the tune of ‘Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud’
A Queen’s math’ma-ti-ci-an was standing
one day
On the banks of the cool river Thames;
He proved a few the-o-rems and sauntered
away
To a dance club to party with friends.
And there on the dance floor a vision he
saw –
A fair Somervillian maid.
The wine made him bold and
Her hand he took hold and
He sang her this sweet serenade:
Groups! Groups! Glorious groups!
Subsets and cosets and cycles and loops!
So boldly conjecture
In every new lecture,
Developing further the theory of groups!
The fair math’ma-ti-ci-enne he worked
hard to win,
Giving proofs of devotion profound.
She could not refute them so she gladly
gave in,
For his reasoning clearly was sound.
And
therefore one summer they tied up a knot
That
remains tightly tied to this day.
In
good Queen’s tradition
Our
young math’ma-ti-cians
To
all of their students would say:
Groups! Groups! Glorious groups!
Subsets and cosets and cycles and loops!
So boldly conjecture
In every new lecture,
Developing further the theory of groups!
That young man has aged a bit, we find
now that he’s
Married, sixty, and father of three –
Not counting the growing group of maths
PhDs
In his large algebraic fam’ly.
He turns out new doctors like nobody else
–
‘Supervisor’ is his middle name:
Now young mathematicians
Seek tenured positions
Inspired by his ringing refrain:
Groups! Groups! Glorious groups!
Subsets and cosets and cycles and loops!
So boldly conjecture
In every new lecture,
Developing further the theory of groups!
(Anon. Discovered by Bill and Julia
Tompson in the archives of The Queen’s College, Oxford.)