‘Twas the week before finals and all through I-State,

not a student was playing, they were all quite irate.

Their sanity hanging by only a thread,

with sadness they cried out, “This week isn’t dead!”

There was simply no time to lie snug in their beds,

and visions of Papa John’s danced in their heads.

’Twas the busiest one, that week full of crap,

the last few days before a month-long nap.

When up in the skies there arose such a clamor,

we sprang from our beds (at 6 a.m.) to see what was the matter,

Away, to Windows, we flew like a flash,

tore open CyMail, and threw up our hands!

The sun scarcely visible on new-fallen snow,

We hoped that soon stress we’d no longer know.

When what to our wondering eyes should appear,

the most glorious of e-mails caused a unison cheer!

With Dead Week now passed, one last week remains.

This week’s not so busy, but exams are a drain.

More rapid than eagles, semester concludes.

In just five more days the students will exude:

No business! No design!

No engineering, or ag!

No more human science!

It was all such a drag!

Then in a twinkling, you’ll hear on your roof

prancing and pawing of strange bird-like hooves.

As you pack your last bag, turn quickly around

Down through the chimney, Cy comes with a bound

He’ll be dressed all in red, from his head to his talon,

He’s our crazy old bird, not a burglar or felon.

He broke into your house with a message to bring:

Go Cyclones! Not Gophers! See you in the spring.

Quickly he’ll leap to President Geoffroy’s back,

and fly into the distance, the darkness, the black

But you’ll hear him exclaim as they fly out of sight,

“Happy holidays to all, and to all, a good night!”

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and good luck on finals.