Hours have passed Bugs have been squashed Do any remain? To think not would be inane But tis late, or early? To bed I must hurry Class at 5.30, More code at 8.30 Perhaps even time for some curry Wait, what’s this Cement mixers running amiss! How am I to sleep When my ears so bitterly weep Alas it be the day Where nocturnals have no say Forcefully I enter realms of slumber A pox o’ that wretched mixer Adieu.