With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore ’Twas the night ’fore the conference and all through the inn All the PIs were up with their laptops and pens, Making graphs and new slides for their talks the next day, In hopes that they’d have something brilliant to say. At the social, the party was raising good cheer; All us grads were up drinking cheap wine and bad beer, Fondly dreaming of prizes that were to be won, With talks practiced and ready and PowerPoints done, When down from the lobby arose such a clatter, I put down my drink to see…