students - Популярные cтихи, рассказы и фанфики

Where are you going, my dear little greenhorns
Here,
I'll teach you how to turn a verse or two Young drones sucking at withered flowers,
Little goats brushing horns against a fence

I have slept upon my couch,
But my spirit did not rest,
For the labours of the
Yet my weary soul opprest;

So there you sit
And how much blood was
That you might sit there
Do such stories bore you