QUOTH THE PROFESSOR
By Ian Nathaniel Cohen



Once upon a lecture dreary
As I sat there, weak and weary,
Hearing my professor speak, and thinking him a bore.
How I tried to find distraction
But to my dissatisfaction
There was nothing, save the voice that I have now come to abhor.
Only this, and nothing more.

Suddenly, I started dreaming
That I saw a bright light gleaming
And I was face-to-face with he whom I have called a bore.
I said, "Sir, I fear your yapping
Has resulted in my napping.
Could you not find some other way, and cease to be a bore?"
Quoth the professor, "Nevermore."

In my dream, he kept on droning,
I continued with my groaning,
I was in a state of agony I'd never known before.
I cried, "Sir, I do beseech!
Enough of your dreadful speech!
For I've heard all that I can hear, and I can stand no more!"
Quoth the professor, "Nevermore."

"Professor!" I cried. "Thing of evil!
Professor who could bore the devil!
Your wretched discourse almost has me running out the door!
Get thee gone from mine own earshot
If you must speak like a robot!
Take thy voice from out mine ears, just shut up, shut up, I implore!"
Quoth the professor, "Nevermore."

My dream ended, he kept speaking
I just kept on steadily weakening,
My energy was all but gone, I staggered to the floor.
I realized, sadly, I'd no choice
But to listen to his dreadful voice
And the dreary dismal discourse which is causing me to snore
It shall cease - ah, never more!