"Tomorrow" marks the Beard,
"Is the day I've often Feared"
He fondly remembers the start,
Bless his sentimental heart.
There is study and chat
of programming a Bat,
Tennis to play on Flash,
Phone keys wait to be mash.
But he knows what is near,
His nerves are on top gear.
The Call of The Gillette
taunts him with intent set.
Time was not the Beard's friend
Tomorrow the exams end,
Leaving his owner free
to waste time with bad poetry.