The students were praying For last-minute knowledge.
Most were quite sleepy, But none touched their beds,
While visions of essays Danced in their heads.
Out in the taverns, A few were still drinking,
And hoping that liquor Would loosen their thinking.
In my own room, I had been pacing,
And dreading exams I soon would be facing.
My roommate was speechless, His nose in his book,
And my comments to him drew unfriendly looks.
I drained all the coffee, And brewed a new pot,
No longer caring That my nerves were shot.
I stared at my notes, But my thoughts were all muddy;
My eyes went ablur, And I just couldn't study.
"Some pizza might help, "I said with a shiver,
But each place I called Refused to deliver.
I'd nearly concluded That life was too cruel,
With futures depending On grades earned in school.
When all of a sudden Our door opened wide
And Patron Saint Put-It-Off Ambled inside.
His spirit was careless, His manner was mellow,
But summoning effort He started to bellow:
"What kind of student Would make such a fuss
To toss back at teachers What they toss at us?
On Cliff Notes! On Crib Notes! On Last Year's Exams!
On Wingit and Slingit, And Last-Minute Crams!"
His message delivered, He vanished from sight,
But we heard him laughing Outside in the night:
"Your teachers have pegged you, So just do your best...
Happy Finals to All, And to All, a good test."