My tummy hurts, and I'm in kind of a bad mood.

Two thousand eight, a year I rather hate:
It made me act kind of nutty.
But I made it through, with help from you
Despite all the harping to study.

As I bid farewell to a year of hell
I wish for something better.
But tonight must come first, and come better or worse,
I wish just to find a clean sweater.

See, the party's at nine, and at seven and five,
In the mud and the blood and the beer.
Or maybe in houses, with sensitive spouses
Some architects, one engineer (P.E.).

Happy New Year.