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This sad Saturday morn I wake in dread
of a task as loathsome as burying a pet.
So here I lie with covers over my head –
slothful, fretting, temporizing, and yet,
getting it done is what I got to do.
Oh, god, how dreary, stale and dull seems
to me the task of assessing research essays.
I’d rather suffer a case of the Hong Kong flu,
give my signed Hemingway away,
than put my pen to -oh – those wretched reams!