Finals Week

sung to the tune of "Silver Bells"--the rant of a new professor in bad poetry form

frantic students
cramming students
with their blank, reddened eyes
in the air there’s the feeling of finals
see them scamper
‘cause exam’s here
smell how desperate the lies
and in every last classroom you hear

“Teacher, please
hear my pleas
I need a paper extension
yes, I tried
printer died
promise, I’ll finish next week”

strings of reasons
mark the season
“Please, ma’am, I need that A
or I’ll probably forfeit my schol’rship
please just serve it
I deserve it
‘though my work went astray”
but above all the clamor you hear

“Sorry, but
you know what?
for four months you just blew my class off
it’s too late
it’s your fate
I’ve turned in the grades, and you’ve failed”