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In John Stone’s poem about residency, “Gaudeamus Igitur,” he invites new doctors to rejoice, “For this is the day you know too little / against the day when you will know too much.”

Nevertheless the philosophy and the moral are there; they are those of the most famous of all medieval songs, Gaudeamus igitur, juvenes dum sumus.

Non sumus fashionabiles: Non damus dapes splendides: But in a modest way, you know, We like to see our money go: Et gaudeamus igitur, Our soul has nought to fidget her!

We do not care to quadrigate On Avenues in gilded state: No gold-laced footmen laugh behind At our vacuity of mind: But in a modest one-horse shay, We rumble, tumble as we may, Et gaudeamus igitur, Our soul has nought to fidget her!

No thought of payment makes us ill, We don't know such a word as "bill": Et gaudeamus igitur, Our soul has nought to fidget her!