It is an ancient examiner
And he stops one of three
By the long absent gaze and baggy eyes
Now where will they stop me?
The lecture hall doors are opened wide,
And I am next to speak;
The students are met, the exam is set:
I hear the quiet sobs.
He holds them with his elderly hand,
“there was a study guide” quoth he.
‘hold off! Don’t start, round sadistic fool!’
His hand dropt he.
He holds them with his glittering eye—
The anxious student stood still,
And listens like a three years child:
The examiner hath his will.
The quivering student sat on the chair:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed examiner.
The study room cheered, the library cheered,
Merrily did we drop
Below the lane, below the hill,
Below the new beginnings top.
The sun came up upon the left,
Out of the exam room came he!
And he stood dark, and on the right
Went down into the d.c.
Lower and lower everyday,
Till over the bridge at noon—
The miserable student here beat his breast
For he heard the tears monsoon.
The TA hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The nervous examinee.
The anxious student he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright eyed examiner.
And now the panic attack came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his breathtaking wings,
And drained brain chemicals along.
With sloping shoulders and dipping heads,
As who pursued with darkness and confusion
Still treads the shadow of his delusion,
And forward bends his head,
The hope not redeemed, loud roared the screams,
And towards quizlet aye we fled.
And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wonderous cold:
And ice, ankle high, came floating by,
As blue as the blue and gold.
And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of A’s nor B’s were ken—
The fear was all between.
The stress was here, the stress was there,
The stress was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!
At length did cross a PALs boss,
Through the fog he came;
As if he had been a Christian soul,
We hailed him in God’s name.
He taught the material we ne’er had grasp,
And through the guide he flew.
The depression did split with a THC hit;
The mentor helped us through!
And a good quizlet sprung up behind;
The PALs boss did follow,
And every day, for food or an A,
Came to the examiner’s hollo!
In mist or cloud, on grass or shroud,
He perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog smoke white,
Glimmered the white moon shine.
‘God save thee, ancient professor!’
From the fiends that plague thee thus!—
Why look’st thou so?’—With my copy of the exam answers
I outsmarted the PALs boss.
My parody of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner focuses on the modern day pressures surrounding midterms and finals for a college student. I focused it at UC Merced because it is familiar to me. I made some very specific stylistic choices when creating my parody. The first choice I had to make was whether or not to translate it into modern language. I ended up deciding not to do that for two reasons; first, the original language is more dramatic and second I felt that it would really highlight the contrast between the struggles of the time periods. I even chose to leave some lines the same. If I thought the lines had no major impact on the plot and even worked for this time period, I left them alone to tie the time periods together by commonalities. The original poem is about a mariner who sets out to see, makes a stupid mistake, gets cursed, then comes back with the fear of God. In my parody, a bunch of nervous students are sitting in an exam room before an old bat of a professor. Before their exam, the professor stops to tell them the tale of a foolish student who stole the exam answers before the test. I chose to only do part one. This choice was made because the word count for the assignment is five hundred, and part one alone was five hundred words. It was also partly because it would have totaled to over a thousand words and the first part itself was enough to justify that this poem is literature of power. I can change the words and the situation of the original, but the moral at the end of the story remains the same for both version: if you look a gift horse in the mouth, karma will come back to kick your ass.