Humanities sick, somewhat unwell
With pen and ink, I’ll write a new spell
A spell that could bring you right out of your shell
And bring some good fortune to this living hell
The spell was constructed right out of a book
There were no kinds of potions, nothing to cook
Just mind over matter and a confident look
And that is the pathway that I chose, and I took
But to my own knowledge, from what I can tell
Nothing‘s been working, not even my spell