I once spent a school year abroad.

Over going I hemmed and I hawed.

The men there were witty

and the courtyards so pretty,

but NO SITTING on grass on the quads!

I once spent a school year abroad.

By the castles I was over-awed.

Though the weather was dreary,

the pubs there were cheery.

In the Bod sometimes off I would nod.

I once spent a school year abroad.

Through Chaucer and Ovid I pawed.

They boiled all foods

and had such dour moods,

but those castles! Like you never sawed.

I once spent a school year abroad.

Through Oxford the students maraud

when they finish exams,

and they act like such hams,

lashing and trashing post-”Mods.”

I once spent a whole year abroad,

and I’ll admit that I feel like a fraud.

Though I read all those poems,

I can’t write one to save my life.

What conclusion from that may be drawed?

I once spent a school year abroad.

But it seems that my thinking was flawed.

And now I’ve returned,

you ask, what have I learned?

I’m for Yale and for country and for gawd!