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Post by rondetto on Feb 12, 2019 13:49:51 GMT
A computer crisis
Twas the night before crisis,
And all through the house,
Not a program was working,
Not even a browse.
Programmers were wrung out,
Too mindless to care,
Knowing chances of cutover
Hadn't a prayer.
The users were nestled
All snug in their beds,
While visions of inquiries
Danced in their heads.
When out in the lobby
There arose such a clatter,
That I sprang from my tube
To see what was the matter.
And what to my wondering
Eyes should appear,
But a Super Programmer,
Oblivious to fear.
More rapid than eagles,
His programmes they came
And he whistled and shouted
And called them by name.
On Update! On Add!
On Inquiry! On Delete!
On Batch Jobs! On Closing!
On Functions Complete!
His eyes were glazed over,
His fingers were lean,
From weekends and nights
Spent in front of a screen.
A wink of his eye,
And a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know
I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word,
But went straight to his work,
Turning specs into code,
Then he turned with a jerk.
And laying his fingers
Upon the ENTER key,
The system came up,
And worked perfectly!
The updates updated;
The deletes they deleted;
The inquiries inquired;
And the closing completed.
He tested each whistle,
He tested each bell,
With nary an abend,
And all had gone well.
The system was finished,
The tests were concluded,
The client's last changes
Were even included!
And the client exclaimed,
With a snarl and a taunt,
"It's just what I asked for,
But it's not what I want!"
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Post by aubrey on Feb 12, 2019 20:59:24 GMT
Here's another computer folk-hero:
In a field of corn
Is a master's shoe
Click the master's shoe
There's a blue-tailed fly
Click a blind man's foot
See a horse's tail
It's down to Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML
This is the tale
Of a clever sod
HTML
Was his gift from God
He slaved all night
Coding the master's site
Never paid a cent
What was his by rights
And the website burns
Since Finnegan fell
Let's pray that he returns
From web designer hell
He's the only one can fix it
Fix it good and well
Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML
He could stream Quicktime
He could code in Flash
He could make your icons dance with Java
Then empty out your trash
But Finnegan's dead
Rotted clean away
Because the bastard master
Never gave him any pay
How the bastard yells
And the website's down
When he taps his URLs
All he gets is '404 Not Found'
By the coffee machine
Screaming Finnegan's name
But the folk hero is dead
And there is no-one left to blame
We've lost our shirts
Now Finnegan's gone
If he had got his just desserts
We could've been cracking merrily on
'cause there was just one man could fix it
Fix it good and well
Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML
When the web is quiet
On a moonlit night
There is phantom code
On the master's site
Some say it's spiders
Or a bot from hell (Like hell!)
It's Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML
(2001)
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