'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 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 a-blur,
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 heared him laughing
Outside in the night:
"Your teachers have pegged you,
So just do our best...
Happy Finals to All,
And to All, a good test."