CSAIL’s Song

Floor Dreyfus Five, thy postdoc lies
Of his drinks are caffeinate;
Bloodshot orbs that were his eyes;
Written code won't terminate,
Making loops quite intricate.
Going down the infinite,
PIs ask for "Progress, yet?"
Knock-knock.
Hark! now I hear them - knock-knock, "nyet".

with apologies to Shakespeare

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