Bored during lectures

If I were a witch a spell I'd cast,
For her mouth to bleed and her heart to rust,
For her bladder to fill and flow with pus,
And last of all for her voice to crust.

The more she talks the worse she'll feel,
It'll start by her feeling just a little ill,
No tree or leaf will help her heal,
No herb or drug, no miracle pill.

At first she'll think she's got the scurvee,
But no fruit can help, no vitamin cee,
Her heart will be afflicted with an unknown malady,
It will go hot and cold, and the inside - rusty.

A U-T-I she will next beget,
The pain she feels she will never forget,
At the end of the day, she'll really regret,
The day she came and made me see red.

Alas. It is only a tale I tell,
For I am no witch and can cast no spell,
Her voice intrudes like a loud clanging bell,
But all I can do is wait out this hell.