Skip to Main Content

Holiday Season Begins at Wabash College

Twas Week Before Finals
By Tom Elliott '08

Twas the week before Finals, and all through the ‘Bash,
Students were working, making one final dash.
The papers were coming, and tests by the score,
And one student just couldn’t take anymore.

The student named Wally got up from his chair,
Went out of his room and down the back stair,
While roommates glared into cold LCD’s,
Dreaming of lounging at home full of ease.

He went out on the lawn and made quite  a clatter,
But with everyone working, it didn’t really matter.
Away to the Citgo he walked in a flash,
Tore through his pockets, looking for cash.


His search for money dissolved to despair,
Wally wanted God to smite him right there,
When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a round bearded man, drinking a beer.

Wandering C-ville  and prowling for chicks,
Wally knew in a moment it must be David Blix.
Off on sabbatical, but maintaining his fame,
He still needed help remembering Wally’s name.

"Umm, John? Or James, or Stephen, or Pete?
Not Roger, or Philip, Stan, I’m almost beat.
I’ll just call you Wally and hope for the best,
I’m not prepared for this sort of test."

Like waking to find that it’s still Christmas Day,
And your three holiday ghosts have all gone away,
So this meeting was blessed, that Wally knew,
Or at least beat working on projects that blew.

[This is where, in truth, another quatrain goes,
But in my poem, dear reader, no such need arose,
So I’ll say read the Caveman as soon as you can,
For more nonsense like this to enjoy, young man.]

Blix was dressed all in red, from his head to his knee,
And below wore black boots. To a certain degree,
He resembled a specter of holiday cheer,
A bit of foreshadowing in the story, my dear.


His glass – how it twinkled! It’s lager - how merry!
His smile like a sage’s, his beard was… well… hairy!
And that beard of his chin was as white as the snow…
And while I was describing, Blix turned to go!

"Wait," said our Wally, "I need your help."
This last phrase emerged an embarrassing yelp.
"I must pass my finals, teach me," he pleaded,
It seemed as though his plan had succeeded.

For Dr. B turned and said under his breath,
"I’ve been there before, almost studied to death."
He then summoned professors we all hold dear,
And proceeded to deliver the name of each clear.

"Now Placher, Now Phillips, Now Porter and Brouwer!
On Widdows, On Foote, On Fisher and Brewer!
Let the knowledge you have fill this Wally’s skull!
Then dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

They spoke not a word, but went straight to their work,
All tutoring and thinking, "Study harder, you jerk!"
Then Blix realized he had emptied his glass,
And giving a nod, proceeded to haul ass.

Wally was busy, quickly cramming his lessons,
With Faculty called for these late night sessions,
But he heard Blix exclaim, ‘ere he walked down the road,
"Merry Christmas to all; it’s a long break you’re owed!"

[If there is one lesson, to take from this tale,
It’s "cramming for finals will make you fail,
That is, unless you happen to major in psych
Which I hear is as easy as riding a bike."]