With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore (1779 – 1863)
Twas the night before Classes and strewn through the house
Are his books and his notes and his Mac and his mouse,
His syllabi are stacked on the desk with great care
Stapled, collated, and ready to share.
This Newfie is snuggled all weary from play
Protesting, professing, a preferred yesterday
Of swimming and walking and playing and eating
Why bother with meetings? They're so self-defeating.
My persistence is dogged, I think with my heart.
My humor waggish; why be apart?
What a bummer to give up the Dog Days of Summer