’Twas the night before Finals, when all through the dorms,
All the students were cramming for tests in the morn.
Cans of Red Bull were chugged, by the trash they piled,
In hopes that passing out wouldn’t come for a while.
The premeds were languishing at the edge of their beds,
While structures of carbons danced in their heads.
And the Mech-Es in the common, oh those poor saps,
Had said, “Screw optimization,” and taken a nap.
When out in the Infinite there arose such a clatter,
Even post docs looked out to investigate the matter.
Away to the hallway I flew like a flash,
Hopped up on caffeine, I was ready to crash.
The gloom on the faces and the heads hung low,
IHTFP their expressions did show!
When, what did I see that made me stop and stand,
But a beat up van scrawled with Feynman diagrams.
With an eccentric driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Prof. Dick.
More rapid than fan boys, the students they came.
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
Now, Tools! Now Sloanies! Now course Eighters and Sevens!
On Premeds! On Froshes! On Seniors and Sixes!
To the top of the dome! Be sure not to fall!
Forget about finals, forget about them all!
Have a good time, party into the night,
It’s not all studying, there’s a lot more to life!
So up to the dome-top the students they flew,
With a minivan full of bongos, and Prof. Feynman too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
Bongos and dancing, oh Feynman you goof!
As I drew in my hand and was turning around,
Down the Infinite Prof. Feynman came with a bound.
He was dressed very sharply, oh without question,
And his collar was smudged with a lipstick impression.
A bundle of QED books he had on his back,
He was up to something, it was matter of fact.
His eyes — how they schemed, his expression, spectacular!
There was something afoot, something quite irregular!
He made for the door, but I said, Professor please wait,
I’ve put off studying and now it’s too late!
I just need an extra day. I promise I’ll study,
Well except for some Snood and a brew at the Muddy.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He said, don’t you worry I’ve done my work,
I said, what do you mean? He turned with a jerk.
And pointing his finger up to the ceiling,
Towards the throngs of students still dancing and screaming.
He said, when the chancellor finds them, all up in a tussle,
He’ll shake his fist and flex his muscles!
What were you thinking? He’ll rightly demand,
MIT is for studying, having fun be damned.
When the students answer they’ve been dancing with Feynman,
He’ll think they’ve gone mad, that finals have fried them!
This school’s paranoid, they don’t want a scene,
Like seeing dead physicists, if you know what I mean.
Feynman sprang to his van, and said don’t you worry,
And flew into the night with quite a hurry.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
I can’t get rid of finals, try as I might.
But an extra suicide prevention day will make things right!
Happy Tooling to all, and to all a good night!