Gordonian Retirement Rap 2018

Yo, Gordon, Mr. Scandinávia,
Mr. Nórdic, Mr. Nórden, Mr. Nordic Nórden,
Górdon Anderson,
We únderstand you’re góing to retire. (repeat)

Whát’s now required of ús
With a mínimum of fúss
–  In the mídst of the Míssissípp,
On a bóat, on a flóatable shíp
Makin' the scéne on the Creole Queen – 
Is to bíd you farewéll,
As we dáre to téll of your explóits...
Adróitness and such.

Lét it now be mentioned:
Hów you are a legend.
Bórn in Rockford, Illinois,
Yóu were not an awkward boy
Léd the pack as brainiac.
Thát’s how we imagine it,
So thát’s how we will fashion it.

The schóol years cáme, and the schóol years scrámmed:
Then it wás for your úncle, your Uncle Sam
You sígned up for a prógram
Intélligently fóllowing your órders
Bóldly acróss the Cold War borders
Pláying the virtual games of “Gotcha!”
With transmítted fake news désinformatiya.

Wíth your training, Czech
Is nó train wréck.
The língo of the Pole
Is an évening stroll.
You’re réady for discussions
Or collúsion with the Russians.
The Gérman of Bavaria
Is in your comfort area
And cáuses no hysteria.
Swédish is not tedious;
You háve that Nordic tóne,
Du heter Göran Anderson.
Líghtly drenched in French,
And váliant in Italian,
Wíth the tongues of Eúrope, you dó just fine
And you éven speak some English from time to time.

Áll of your gráy matter réally does mátter:
Whó else do we know with a triple Master’s:
ÚSC, and Iowa, and Óread, Kansas?
Thús, we see Gordónian glory advances.

It múst have been written
In some cláuse, in some láws
In the stárs,
Or pláyed on your guitar
That yóu would gét in
And fít in this vocátion
Whére you leave impréssions,
Vocátional impressions
Ón the ínformátional proféssions.

Ánd you’ve done it áll so amazingly right:
Thát is why we práise-ah you tonight.

A wítty saying próves not a thíng, said Voltaire,
But the flaír of your career télls the world you were thére to sháre.
With líbrary tasks in Nebráska,
Then wórkin’ on the cámpus in Kánsas with skill and cáre,
The Míni Apple called, and you moved to St. Paul, 
Scánned the Scandinavian, did Slavic with good logic,
Wíth one foot in Fargo and the other in Chicago. 

A wítty saying próves not a thíng, said Voltaire,
But the flaír of your career télls the world you were thére on a tear, on a dare…
As WÉSS Chair, Prógram Chair,
Gróovin’ in the SEES lair,
Convéner of discússion groups (how convénient!)
Pássing on your knowledge to the faithful troops,
On Nórdic, Históric, or Special Topics,
Mákin’ Norway seem (3x) like the trópics,
Mákin’ Denmark, Making’ Sweden
Makin’ Finland seem, yeah,
Mákin’ Iceland seem like the Tropics.

Yo, Yo, Yo, Yo,
Gívin’ Gívin’ Gívin’ Gívin’ Gívin’ to the WessWeb,
Givin’ it your best bet,
Givin’ it your best shot,
Givin’ all you got.  – (repeat)

Civil disobédience I thínk of fóndly, sáid Mahatma Gándhi,
But Górdon, yóu never dísobeyed the cáll of dúty,
You sáid absolútely “Avánti!”
When yóu were ásked to make the tíme expénditure
To pléase becóme the régular spectácular Chiéftain Éditor
Of Réference Réviews that covered all of Eúrope – OK, PDQ, RRÉA,
You léapt into the fray and saved the day,
Wrángling us volunteers as abstract peers
And éditing that journal for years and years.

Now óne more remémbrance, óne more image
From my stóre of mental rémnants, and thén we’re finished:
I see you ráising up the ACRL flag in the air,
Nót in Iwo Jima but the Frankfurt Bóok Fair…
With the flág unfairly trápped in cústoms,
As a páwn in douáne, our bannered beaúty strápped with dúty and zápped with Zóll,
Yoú and Knut héaded to the áirport on a roll,
Tóld the bureaucrats where to pút their toll,
And retúrned to the fair with the flag unscrólled.

Yo, Yo, Yo, Yo,
Gívin’ Gívin’ Gívin’ Gívin’ Gívin’ to the WessWeb,
Givin’ it your best bet,
Givin’ it your best shot,
Givin’ all you got.  (repeat)

Thése are the mémories you helped to máke,
The álphabet soúp where you helped us on the íntake,
The álphabet cóokies that you helped to báke:
Á-L-A / Á-R-L / C-R-L / Á-C-R-L WESS
SEES and SASS and L-E-S, which bring us back to ÉSS, yes,
É-S-S / É-S-S / Á-S-Tríple-E-S – Ess, Ess, Ess…
GNÁRP is shárp and CÍFNAL is nót in the least perípheral:
WESS was WESS and SEES has céased, so nów we are transítional.

Yóu’ve been a bíg part óf it,
And we knów in your héart you lóve it.
So nów, fare Thee well, and rést up for a spell,
But kéep yourself cóol, yeah, á.m. & p.m.: Cárpe Diém,
There’s lóts of cárp, so gó seize thém!

Górdon Ánderson,
You’ve pámpered us, accórded us some fún.

Bút now. Ít’s dóne.

Gordon cíao, Gordon ciao, Gordon ciao, ciao, ciao, (repeat 3x – audience participation)

Wé the fólks at É-S-S wísh you all the Best-Best-Best!