Parody on the Gilbert and Sullivan nightmare song

 

when you're sitting all night

and do nothing but write

and conclusions don't fit all your findings

you are wracked with the strain

try again and again

not to wrench each book out of its bindings

and you finally fall

through no fault at all

into a strange fugue state of dreaming

where the books which are there

take, like birds, to the air

and across your tired vision are streaming

and you reach for your pen

to begin it again

to fill in the last little notion

but you can't stay awake

and you really must take

some coffee or some stronger potion

and the words fly around

you're surrounded by sound

of their whispers and strange sussuration

until they appear

falling out of each ear

in a most dizzying operation

and you finally weep

and collapse in a heap

and wonder if you  even will  survive

but you get it all down

with a headache and frown

and at last! it is done and you're alive!

 

[apologies to Mr. W.S. Gilbert]