Upon his chair sits the professor,
The venerable Dr. Hurley.
Looking around at his class,
Turning, slow but surely.
In one hand he holds a book
From which he reads aloud,
And the coffee in his other
On his glasses forms a cloud.
Both the book and the coffee
He brings up to his lips,
And the rich texture of them both
He drinks with easy sips.
How I wish that I could drink
The text as Hurley does,
And enjoy my coffee in his way
With easy sips because
I suppose that all things
Are better, taken slow but surely.
And so no one has it better
Than the venerable Dr. Hurley.
