With eyelids heavy and red, with fingers inky and chill,
A student sat in his lodgings alone, plying his weary quill—
Scratch! scratch! scratch! ’mid translations, and cribs, and crams,
And still, in a croak no crow could match, he sang this “Song of Exams”:—
“Work! work! work! while the cock is crowing aloof,
And work! work! work! while the cats serenade on the roof;
It’s oh! to be a slave with the most unspeakable Turk,
Who neither professors nor colleges has, if this is Christian work.
“Work! work! work! till the head begins to swim;
And work! work! work! till the eyes are heavy and dim—