Latin’s a language, once so grand,
It was spoken across the Roman land.
It used to thrive with words so bright,
And now it lingers through the night.

A zombie language, roaming free,
Dead to many, haunting me.
In dusty tombs, in ancient texts,
The forgotten presence, it reflects.

Within the classroom, it’s brought to life,
Students wrestling with its strife.
A zombie language, haunting minds,
The ancient relic one still finds.

Magister chants it’s dusty lines,
Reviving long forgotten rhymes.
Latin’s undead, it haunts with grace,
A prevalent voice within this space.

A language lost, but not for all,
A language that may never fall.
In modern words and ancient prose,
Its spirit in each classroom grows.