There was a reporter named Sal,
Who took a depo in a henhouse locale.
With the clucking and crowing,
The work was hard going.
But it was the language that made it most fowl. Charles Ling
Homework!! (Sincere apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning) How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways. I loathe thee to the depth and breadth and height My fingers can stroke, when feeling out of sorts For the ends of being a depressed overworked student. I loathe thee to the level of every day’s Most hated practice, by sun and candle-light. I loathe thee freely, as men shun what’s right. I loathe thee purely, because I turn from praise. I loathe thee with the passion put to use In my old theory book, and with my lack of faith. I loathe thee with a loathing I seemed to share With many lost classmates. I loathe thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my schooling; and, if God choose, I shall but loathe thee better after graduation.
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