They threw me out of Harvard in 1921
My name is Keith Smerage, I never hurt anyone
I grew up north of the city
My mother managed the local inn
She saved every penny she ever earned
Just to get me in
The investment in me was something
I felt I had to answer for
Nobody went to college
In my family ever before
My father never said much
I was a quiet kid
I never went in for the things
That the other boys did
I would have been a good father
But I could never picture a wife
I wanted to work in the theater
Make something out of my life
Harvard had a reputation
A secret that lived underground
A savage administration
Determined to shut it down
I attended some of the parties
Had encounters with some of the boys
I was haunted by my nature
And a punishing voice
I had a thing for a student named Nathan
A thing that I grew to despise
We had a feel for each other
Harvard could never abide
President A. Lawrence Lowell
He had it in for our sort
He ordered an inquisition
Created a secret court
The room didn′t have any windows
One dim light by the door
Five against one they questioned
Each of us for two hours or more
How old were you when it started
Give us the other boys names
How many times in a week
How many times in a day
32 interrogations, Seven days after that
Fourteen of us convicted
Twenty-four hours to pack
Letters sent to our parents
All of our records erased
Anyone asking about us
Details of our disgrace
My mother wrote eloquent letters
Please to the deans she implored
A little bit less of your justice she said
Jesus a little bit more
But they never showed any mercy
They never did from the start
Mercy was not in their nature
Jesus was not in their hearts
No remorse for their devastation
No quarter for leniency
They had a job to preserve and protect
Their Ivy League fantasy
President A. Lawrence Lowell
Unrepentant and unreconciled
They said that he had a loveless marriage
He never fathered a child
Born to a Brahmin family
He knew he had God on his side
But the road to heaven is narrow
The road to hell is wide
Most of us never recovered
Some of us didn't survive
The weight of the guilt and the shame and disgrace
Three of us took our own lives
Goodbye Eugene and Cyril
They never mourned your loss
They built the devil a city
They put their sons on a cross
I held it together a while
But I never found my way
I held it together exactly until
1930 September the 8th
Glory be to the father, Mary, full of grace
Say goodbye to my mother
I′m sorry to leave her this way
The Pine Grove Cemetery
I lie with my name on a stone
Buried next to my mother
On a rise overlooking our home
They threw me out of Harvard, in 1921
My name is Keith Smerage
I never hurt anyone
