Oh, I have no humanities tomorrow—
Nothing but chem calc and lunch—
Hist’ry brings me horror,
But redox is my soror,
And Mr. Darcy makes me want to cryyyyyy!

[sung to the tune of “Lancelot, you might as well fess up,/Really, you’re a different kind of guy;/Move aside your scabbard,/and underneath your tabbard,/There is waiting to escape a butterfly! |rhythm changes to something disco-ey, maybe modulation| His name is Lancelot, he likes to dance alot…etc]

Ode to Salicylic Acid

A sav’r of lives in every place
From sacred heart to scabby face
I’d love to be your conj’gate base!


Iambic tetrameter, Hudibrastic;
On the tenth may I be fantastic!

[Tenth of May=AP English exam, I think. But note the word play and such.]


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