Have you ever been staring at a particularly wordy page of “The Canterbury Tales” and desperately wished you were a pilgrim in the Middle Ages to avoid studying for your test? (Yes, clearly a universal experience).
Well believe it or not, those in the medieval times also had their fair share of “all-knighters” and complicated plagiarism issues during their finals week. After reading this epic poem that I dug up from ancient Howler archives, you’ll probably feel grateful and better off just getting on Quizlet and grinding for that final.

Tis of many students I have to tell
Who, long before the morning class bell
Were sitting in a pile of dust for bread and butter.
As they sat, they heard the clock strike eight and stutter,
One of them called
And said “It is time—look alive!—Finals week has begun;
Let us prepare ourselves, and mourn together once the deed is done.”

There was a Scientist, a most distinguished boy
Whose test was no mere joke nor toy
He had done nobly thus far;
Outlasting skeptics and remaining stout in reasoning
Yet the final challenge: laden with fleas and rats
The teacher spat:
“Survive the Dysentery, the Plague, Death’s ink-black ugly grip-”
And to this he could not, ultimately succumbing to an F
(in the chat).

Some children were there also, of the finest diligence
Jousting late with weary eyes and ambitiousness
Their blades ran parallel with the dimming of the horizon’s light
And with a final stab and poke, they decided to call it a
(k)night.

A poor decision, for their teacher shook with wickedest disapproval
“Young ones,” he said, “you listen to me, tis’ crucial,
Although I joke away. See me after the arena
Lest thou wishes to end up churning margarine”.

Following the rye-led charge of the tournament,
To the church they heeded
A visit; in good judgement
For their next assignment they were utterly incontent
As they were told to make commoners repent.

“Sell them some religious relics if you will,
I have a lot of treasuries I’d like to overfill.”

“And if you dare to cheat-
Thoughts of this kind, trust me, no ghastlier section to transcend.
Of every soul, grant pardon and relieve
Asking any other source, pope or clergy is naive;
Since thou willst receive only: “ERROR 404: PAGE not found.”

“Well,” said the teacher, “our week draws to a close,
And a jolly season of festivities is upon our toes!
Marks come, marks go! We’ll spend it as we ought,
Free from stresses, free from fretting and whatnot,
A last chore; alas, it certainly cannot be done today…
To you all I must say,
Sleigh a dragon, and have a merry, cheerful Lord’s day!”

1 Butter

2 A young apprentice of noble birth

3 grades