Ode to Statistics Paper 7, Group A

While you were there, smug and grinning
Out of that detested green notebook of mine,
When days were hard and heads were spinning,
And all I would is mope and whine.

Dismal days, mournful evenings, terrible nights,
(Mornings I would sleep unheeding),
Who knew heteroscedasticity could create such frights
And all one could say is bloomin' and bleedin'.

I would gaze at the formulae perplexed,
Classifying most derivations as miracles of God,
I would walk about harried and vexed,
Could hardly give it up, would not plod.

Ah those precious winter noons,
Now never return to memory or weather,
When explained MLEs were boons,
To forced testings myself I would tether.

You were my nemesis, my curse,
My Everest, unconquered, unvanquished.
You still look so forbidding, so terse,
Like those dukes who so languished.

Now that you are gone, I wander about lost,
Slightly bemused, mostly confused,
You gave me purpose, like warmth to frost,
You hide now like a madman accused.

I sing my woes, paint my toes,
Lurk around curtains, scare sneaking cats,
You and I may have come almost to blows,
But hating you gave life a meaning, do I sound bats?

I still do not understand correlation,
Never really read up Durbin Watson test,
Left the pages on auto correlation,
Econometrics makes me feel like a disliked guest.

I might be back again with you in weeks,
Or may not if luck favours,
I still owe you much, the guilt reeks,
The heart says you are a fool, the mind wavers.

The truth is I am witlessly, mind numbingly bored,
So bored, for even you I pine,
I await for sense, until then thoughts are to be ignored
I am all right really, not insane yet, completely fine.