Here's to you, my 89,
Because when I ask you for the cosine
of pi over six, you answer to me
it is one half the square root of three
Oh how I love thee, my dear 89.
And though David G. Myers*
may make my knees weaker,
I hope one day soon he retires,
for he mistook a flask for a beaker.
But you will never lie to me, my dear 89.
No one can derive like you
I ask d of 2x comma x, you say two,
and I know it is true.
For you, every function I will define,
because you are my dear 89.
I am the only one who can appreciate
the magic you do when you integrate.
And when I work up the nerve
to ask for the area under the curve,
your answers help me pass, my dear 89.
*Author of Psychology, 7th ed. (2003), AKA the best textbook ever.