Oh Commons food, you do such funny things,

My stomach flutters when you approach me,

It writhes and bounces as if it had wings,

But still from you, it seems, I cannot flee.

You are there when I'm starving at midday,

My home away from classes all year long,

Inside you are so warm I want to stay,

But so is your mayo, and that is wrong.

I feel for the veggies that float in trays,

And mourn for the pastas, always the same,

Your meats, if I knew what kind, I would praise,

Still I keep coming back, am I to blame?

Commons, your food forces me to linger,

Oh god, oh god, that is not my finger!