By Alec Zbornak
‘Twas the night before senior finals, when all through the school
Not a student was studying, oh what fools;
After waiting for weeks by their mailboxes with care,
In hopes that college acceptance letters would soon be there;
The students finally crashed, all snug in their beds;
While fears of hard work danced in their heads;
Wrapped cozy in pjs, all toasty in nightcaps
They had just settled down for a quick catnap.
When out from the kitchen there came such a clatter,
Students sprang from their beds to see what’s the matter;
Down the stairs, the students flew like a flash,
To see the angry, pursed face of their parents in wrath.
“You’re grades, they are slipping
In the toilets they have gone,
Will they ever stop dipping?
Your colleges will surely see these marks, come on!”
“Mother, can’t you see that I’m tired
And oh so very very ill
I suffer, you see from a deadly sickness
No, it’s not the pox nor even the flu
Something much more serious, If only you knew
And, I want you to know that. there’s no use in fighting this
Sadly, mother dearest, I suffer from Senioritis.
So back to bed I go, not a book, will I touch
With movies and and music and Snap Streaks and such
I take the Ls from my finals with might
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”