O Lecturer (a poem)

O Lecturer,
How you stand at your lectern,
Jowls wobbling,
Voice stuttering.
You are like a wooden puppet;
Your chin droops loosely.

Do you not know
Tis a Monday morning?
Students in their seats,
We all doze off.

Why can you not talk
In
Continuous prose
And
*cough*
Stop



With the long silence...



Every time you say something?

Fellow undergraduates,
Academi (that's probably fictional Latin)
How can we make notes
If our lecturer cannot speak well
Publicly?

My friends:
We are in a quandary.