Twas the night before finals, and all through the college, 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 books, 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 all shot. I stared at the notes, but my thoughts were muddy, My eyes went ablur, 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 made 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, All of a sudden, he started to bellow. “On Cliff’s notes, on Crib notes, On Last Year Exams. On Wing-It and Sling-It 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 to your best, Happy Finals to All, and to all a Good Test.”
Date: Wed, 10 Dec 1997 11:02:52 -0500