Call him up on the phone
Remind him to bring along the bone
That they will use to beat the drum
Letting all know it's time to come

Placing the crown upon the head
Of the fool elected to play dead
The cage is filled with eleven doves
Passed around are as many gloves

All stand in line and face the west
No time to waste, not time for rest
They begin to sing their fraternity song
Hoping this evening nothing goes wrong

Which pledge will be the chosen one
Whom all will worship with the rising sun
Another will pass the test of the wood
He will then have everything given him good