Luke's Lecture: a Comedy by Dante

There shouldn't be any class today,
Yet here we are, incomplete in number
To listen to what Luke has to say.
While some have gone off into deep slumber
And also a good number who hunger,
Yet it is a class none would relish;
For their assignments are unfinished.

The class was boring, atmosphere cold;
The number of slumberers has increased.
We are all learning poets of old
Whose motor functions and minds have long ceased;
As we all listen on, our foreheads creased.
Now he's telling us, "Talk to the dead,"
We do not care; we long for a bed!

The third hour is finally reached,
Our class is decimated in number.
By Luke's teachings our minds are all bleached;
None of us, none at all, remain sober;
Thank God we are not required to labour.
All are now minding their own business;
Some taking sleep to be their mistress.



This poem was created by my classmate this morning in class. He has asked me to blog it for him, because he doesnt own a blog. All credits to him.