By: Hunter Spillers
OSL #530
Lying here beneath this seal
Donned with red and blue
Is a faithful friend whom is dear to us
Whose spirit remains forever true
For on that fateful day
in the autumn of '99
Began a legend
Steeped in tradition
That withstands the hands of time
He rest among his commrades
To whom he gave his life
Names embedded in the ground
Paying homage to his strife
He leads the path flanked with pillars
On which each Techster treads
His heart may beat no more
But his soul is never dead
So now a century later
We recall his epic tale
It began in the autumn of '99
At the stroke of the Old Main bell
On the day this story started
It began like any other day
A chilly morning in Louisiana
filled with fog and grey
Constant scratching at the window
By branches on which no leaves remain
Fraternal brethen arise
For a day of class again
Arthur, James, and Jesse,
George, and Daniel too
Quickly enrobe in light jackets
Their letters worn proud and true
With haste they grab some buttered biscuits
And slather on peach jam
Graciously provided by Mrs. Stubbs
She made it all by hand
They thank the landlord's misses
And make their way out the door
Embarking on their journey
Not knowing what's in store
They pause a moment on the porch
Thanking the Lord for daily bread
And sincerely asking for His guidance
In the day ahead
Unknowingly their small prayer
Broke through Heaven's floor
God's plan for this gloomy day
Will shine for evermore
The walk through the woods
Took the men several minutes
Above the rustling of the leaves
They heard the train roar in the distance
Breaking through the dense fog
They near the majestic building
High and mighty in red brick
Its presence is unyielding
Up upon the pediment
Painted in dark blue
Bears the name of their alma mater
Louisiana Industrial Institute
Past the mighty columns
And through the heavy oak door
Down the hallway they ran
Up to the second floor
The aroma of fresh paint
Made the Old Main come alive
After all she was quite young
She was built in '95
In the classroom stood the professor
Waiting patiently
In the desks sat the brothers
Panting heavily
The professor's dark beard hung low
Resting on his chest
He looked dapper in his grey suit
And his burgundy vest
Out the window the fog had cleared
Revealing an autumn scene
Bursts of orange and yellow
Without a sign of green
On their fists they rest their chins
And their tired and heavy heads
While being taught philosophy
They dreamed of playing ball outside instead
As the lecture reached its end
The guys grabbed their books and went
Hurridly they left Old Main
Where half of their day was spent
Stepping into the Quad
the men are warmly greeted
By the Methodist reverend who crossed their path
And asks them to be seated
The humble reverend is on a mission
He calls it a Holy Quests
He prays for the souls on the campus
And asks them for any requests
They all speak of their loved ones
Asking for their protection
Hopeful for the day they'd make it back
Before the winter session
In silence the men sat
As the preacher prayed over them
Talking to God so beautifully
It sounded like a hymn
He bids the men fare well
As he continues on his way
He thanks them for sitting a spell
As he spoke to Jesus this day
They pull a pigskin out their bag
And make mad dashes across the Quad
Playfully the men tear up
the freshly dampened sod
Inspite of their hungry bellies
The men keep at the game
Forgetting the dinner Mrs. Stubbs had packed
And it caused them great shame
As the sun slowly faded
Behind the nobel trees
Once their dinner had cooled
Back to the house for supper the men flee
The Old Main bell sounded
Announcing the end of the day
And the train whistle blew loudly
Off to the West it made its way
And to the South the men scurry
By the bleak and dissmal light
When in the woods the men were frightened
By a short creature in sight
They came upon the creature
To discover he meant no harm
It was only a playful Bulldog
That had a certain charm
After the guys calm their nerves
George and Daniel unanimously settle
To give the hungry dog the stew sent with them
from Mrs. Stubbs' large, black kettle
Lapping up the cold stew
The rest decide not to risk it
And so they give their new buddy
What's left of their old biscuits
While nearly in the darkness
The men think best not to linger
They pat the dog on the head
In return he licks their fingers
The men brush it off their shoulders
They think nothing more of the situation
Little did they know that their new friend
Would soon be the father of the Bulldog nation
Nestled sweetly past the tree line
Within the fields of cotton
The house stood quaintly among the chemney smoke
An image soon to be forgotten
The guys reach the front door
And courteously remove their boots
Making their way into their rooms
They don their union suits
While Mrs. Stubbs in the kitchen
Cries to her husband for help
Because outside the kitchen window
Stood a dog with a disturbing yelp
The guys exclaimed, "don't shoot him!"
As Mr. Stubbs came with his gun to kill it
"We met this dog in the woods
Would you mind if he stayed a bit"
All was well with the Stubbs
The poor fellow is a stray
It'll be far too cold for him tonight
In the kitchen he may stay
From rags they made their new friend
a warm and cozy bed
infront of the wood burning stove
a nice place to rest his head
They gave him a pat on the back
And scratch behind his ears
Then went to their rooms and off to bed
While he wag his little tail with cheer
While in bed they bow their heads
Realizing as they pray
Quite a few uncommon happenings
For such an ordinary day
But they drift off to sleep
thinking nothing more
with the dog asleep in the kitchen
the only sound a snore
That night something happened
That no one can quite recall
Smoke filled every room
With no one awakened at all
In the darkness of the night
Stood there in a blaze
Amid the ivory field of cotton
The house in a golden haze
It was the days before alarms and sirens
There was nothing there to wake them
Deep in the woods the house was hidden
From those deemed fit to save them
Down the hallway
The little dog trudged
Into each bedroom
Giving every sheet a good tug
He even climbed up the stairs
To wake up the Stubbs
They each come out one by one
Thankful for the day
Leaving everything inside the burning house
Including their friend they found a stray
Each face was coated black
Broken by their tears' streams
Searching frantically for their hero
But he was nowhere to be seen
Beneath the charred rubble
Within the house's nave
Lay the small dog like a burnt offering
His friends for to save
He seemed so peaceful
Deep in his dreamless sleep
His body nearly untouched
By the fire's intense heat
Without a word spoken
They knew what was to be done
The hero deserved a proper burial
Back where they met they would run
Carrying the lifeless body
The men breakdown crying
Nothing breaks a man's heart
Like a dear friend dying
They ran for what seemed an enturnity
Back to that stately tree
Cleared the ground beneath them
And solemnly took a knee
George removed his blue coat
Then James removed his coat of red
They wrapped the dog's little paws
And then they wrapped his head
Then Jesse, Arthur, and Daniel
quickly dug with their battered hands
What will forever be their dear friend's eternal bed
In the stillness of the moment
the men continually sobbed
When in the whistle of the wind
They looked up to the sky and talked to God
Their hearts cried out in pain
But in thanksgiving for this dog
What began as a brief acquaintance
Came to save us afterall
Thank You God for the friends
That we meet along the way
And may this friend be remembered
Forever from this day
Here at this graveside
Where our precious dog lays his head
What once was Louisiana Industrial Institute
Is now Louisiana Tech instead
No longer under the oak tree
He rests now beneth the untimely clock
In Centennial Plaza
Where all our students flock
Forever inspiring hearts of the faithful
Of the dear ole Red and Blue
As we raise our finger for the One
Whose Bulldog pride is ever true
May we remember the Love and Loyalty
displayed by our dear friend
And may the spirit of the Bulldog
Remain until the very end.

hope ya'll enjoyed it. talking with a publishing company perhaps some day you can buy a copy at the bookstore.