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                        COMPUTER SONGS
                        ==============

    (Song and poem parodies with computer related subjects)

collected & reformatted by Stefan Haenssgen 


The entries are formatted as follows, seperated by "@"s :

Title    : The title of the parody
Original : The title of the original
Group    : The one(s) who performed the original
Author   : Author of the parody
Info     : Additional Comments by the Author
Song     : The Parody itself


I'd like to thank the following people for their contributions
(in alphabetical order)

	Nelson Bishop 
	Tony Duell 
	
	Axel Eble 
	Uli Fraus 
	Andreas Gustafsson 
	Evan Kirshenbaum 
	Adrian Mariano 
	Ove Ruben R Olsen 
	Boas Simon 
	Ignatios Souvatzis 
	Russell Street 
	The Unknown User 
	Martin Welk 
	Alan Winston 

And here we go:


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : 0x0d2c
Original : ?
Group    : ?
Author   : Bill Mitchell 
Intro    : 
Song     : 


               0x0d2c
               ------
    
      May all your signals trap
    May your references be bounded
           All memory aligned
       Floats to ints be rounded
    
    Remember....
    
          Nonzero is TRUE
            ++ adds one
       Arrays start with [0]
        NULL points to none
    
        For octal use zero
          0x means in hex
            use = to set
         and == for a test
    
        Use -> for a pointer
         a dot if it's not
          ?: is confusing
          use this a lot
    
        a.out is your program
        there's no 'u' in foobar
       and char (*(*x())[])() is
     a function returning a pointer
        to an array of pointers
      to functions returning a char


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : A Better Model
Original : A Modern Major-General
Group    : Gilbert and Sullivan
Author   : Steven Levine at Apollo Computer
Intro    : 
Song     : 
     
                            A Better Model
                            ==============
                 by Steven Levine at Apollo Computer
                         Submitted by "Spam"
             Sung to the tune of "A Modern Major-General"
                       by Gilbert and Sullivan
     

I've built a better model than the one at Data General
For data bases vegetable, animal, and mineral
My OS handles CPUs with multiplexed duality;
My PL/1 compiler shows impressive functionality.
My storage system's better than magnetic core polarity,
You never have to bother checking out a bit for parity;
There isn't any reason to install non-static floor matting;
My disk drive has capacity for variable formatting.

Chorus:  His disk drive has capacity for variable formatting,
         His disk drive has capacity for variable formatting,
         His disk drive has capacity for variable format-formatting.

I feel compelled to mention what I know to be a gloating point:
There's lots of room in memory for variables floating-point,
Which shows for input vegetable, animal, and mineral
I've built a better model than the one at Data General.

Cho:  Which shows for input vegetable, animal, and mineral
      He's built a better model than the one at Data General.

The IBM new home computer's nothing more than germinal;
At Prime they still have trouble with an interactive terminal;
While Tandy's done a lousy job with operations Boolean,
At Wang the byte capacity's too small to fit a coolie in.
Intel's mid-year finances are something of the trouble sort;
The Timex Sinclar crashes when you implement a bubble sort.
All DEC investors soon will find they haven't spent their money well;
And need I even mention Nixdorf, Univac, or Honeywell?

Cho:  And need he even mention Nixdorf, Univac, or Honeywell?
      And need he even mention Nixdorf, Univac, or Honeywell?
      And need he even mention Nixdorf, Univac, or Honey-Honeywell?

By striving to eliminate all source code that's repetitive
I've brought my benchmark standings to results that are competitive.
In short, for input vegetable, animal, and mineral
I've built a better model than the one at Data General.

Cho:  In short for input vegetable, animal, and mineral
      He's built a better model than the one at Data General.

In fact when I've a floppy of a maximum diameter,
When I can call a subroutine of infinite parameter,
When I can point to registers and keep their current map around,
And when I can prevent the need for mystifying wraparound,
When I can update record blocks with minimum of suffering,
And when I can afford to use a hundred K for buffering,
When I've performed a matrix sort and tested the addition rate,
You'll marvel at the speed of my asynchronous transmission rate.

Cho:  You'll marvel at the speed of his asynchronous transmission rate,
      You'll marvel at the speed of his asynchronous transmission rate,
      You'll marvel at the speed of his asynchronous transmission-mission rate.

Though all my better programs that self-reference recursively
Have only been obtained through expert spying, done subversively,
But still for input vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I've built a better model than the one at Data General.

Cho:  But still for input vegetable, animal, and mineral,
      He's built a better model than the one at Data General.


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : A is for Apple
Original : A is for Apple
Group    : Traditional
Author   : Douglas Spencer
Intro    : 
Song     : 


A is for Apple

by Douglas Spencer
Computer Systems Administrator,  Anderman and Co Ltd


    A is for APPLE who sent us our Macs,
    D is for DEC, and they sold us a Vax.
    C is the language in which we write source,
and B is our sort, which is BROKEN, of course.

    E is an ERROR when code is compiled,
    F is a FORK for creating a child,
    G is the GETTY that sits on the line,
and H is a HANGUP whic:^?{^Zo^?{bD^]NO CARRIER

    I is the INTERCONNECTION of kit,
    J is the JOY when the cables all fit.
    K is for KERMIT, to copy a file,
and L are the LINES that we drop all the while.

    M is the MODEM we use from our home,
    N are the NIGHTS which we spend on the 'phone,
    O is the OUTPUT we get from the host,
and P are the 'PHONE BILLS we get in the post.

    Q for SIGQUIT makes our process abort,
    R is the REASON sigquit should be caught.
    S is the SIGNAL we catch and ignore,
and T is the TRAP which we miss, and dump core.

    U is for UNIX -- I hope that is clear,
    V is the VISUAL editor here.
    W stands for the WINDOWS we use,
and X for the windowing system we choose.

    Y is for YACC, quite a specialist tool,
    Z for the snores from the programming pool.
    Written while waiting while dinner was cooking


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Addicted To Vi
Original : Addicted To Love
Group    : Robert Palmer
Author   : Chuck Musciano 
Intro    : After thinking about that poor wretch who has become addicted to vi,
           I was inspired to compose the following ditty, sung to the tune of
           "Addicted To Love" by Robert Palmer.
           As you sing this, it may help the effect to imagine a dozen women,
           all of whom resemble Bill Joy, dressed in black and dancing
           sinuously.
Song     : 


Addicted To Vi
(with apologies to Robert Palmer)

You press the keys with no effect,
Your mode is not correct.
The screen blurs, your fingers shake;
You forgot to press escape.
Can't insert, can't delete,
Cursor keys won't repeat.
You try to quit, but can't leave,
An extra "bang" is all you need.

You think it's neat to type an "a" or an "i"--
Oh yeah?
You won't look at emacs, no you'd just rather die
You know you're gonna have to face it;
You're addicted to vi!

You edit files one at a time;
That doesn't seem too out of line?
You don't think of keys to bind--
A meta key would blow your mind.
H, J, K, L?  You're not annoyed?
Expressions must be a Joy!
Just press "f", or is it "t"?
Maybe "n", or just "g"?

Oh--You think it's neat to type an "a" or an "i"--
Oh yeah?
You won't look at emacs, no you'd just rather die
You know you're gonna have to face it;
You're addicted to vi!

Might as well face it,
You're addicted to vi!
You press the keys without effect,
Your life is now a wreck.
What a waste!  Such a shame!
And all you have is vi to blame.

Oh--You think it's neat to type an "a" or an "i"--
Oh yeah?
You won't look at emacs, no you'd just rather die
You know you're gonna have to face it;
You're addicted to vi!

Might as well face it,
You're addicted to vi!


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The Alternative Wall
Original : The Wall
Group    : Pink Floyd
Author   : ?
Intro    : Here's a set of pseudosongs which is the result of several long
           drunken nights talking on a bulletin board between London &
           Aberystwyth (220+ miles apart)... circa 1988.
Song     : 

                          The Alternative Wall:-

 Established by:- 	Anarchy, Atropos, White,
 			Roadrunner>>>++>>, & Giant Hogweed.

Nobody On
---------

I got keyboard corns on my fingers,
I got a Ethernet Pad for a brain,
I got a VDU to prop up my mortal remains.

My programs always fail,
I got a strong urge to MAIL
But I got no-one to MAIL to,
MAIL to,
MAIL to..

Oh, babe, when I send down the phone,
There's still nobody on...

                      The Alternative Wall, Part Two.

Does anybody here remember DEC?
Remember how the manual
Was useless to me
In every way.

UNIX, what has become of you?
Can any other O/S be quite as slow as you...

                     The Alternative Wall, Part Three.

The Trial
---------

Good Morning, ROOT, your honour,
The dump will plainly show the user who now stands before you
Was caught red-handed in the system
Crudely hacking in a truly vicious nature
This will not do!
CALL THE LOGFILE!

"I always said he'd come to no good didn't I, ROOT, your honour,
If they let me have my way I'd have him banned from the VAX!
But my hands were tied,
The bleeding hearts and artists
Not to mention the Dave Prices
Wouldn't let me throw him off!"

-- Dedicated to Atropos The Wanderer.

                        The Alternative Wall, Part Four.

The UNIX Login Software
-----------------------

Is there anybody out there?

(repeat ad nauseam)

                        The Alternative Wall, Part Five.

One of My Hacks
---------------
Log onto the system
On that lurid green screen
You'll find there's no response!

Don't look so frightened,
this is just a passing crash,
One of my bad hacks!

Would you like to watch TV,
Well, that's no use to me
I want to watch you squirm
As you try to get logged on!

Do you want to call the OPS,
Do you think it's time I stopped?
Why are you running away?

                       The Alternative Wall, Part Six.

Filled Up Spaces / What Shall We Do Now?
----------------------------------------

What shall we use to trash
The filled up spaces on the archive tape?

How should I hack and leave no traces,
How shall the system completely fall?

                      The Alternative Wall, Part Seven.

Uncomfortably Numb
------------------
Hello, is there anybody on here?
I'm here but can you see me?
Is there anyone at home?
C'mon now, I hear that MIST is down,
I can ease the pain, maybe bring it up again.

Relax, I need some information first,
Just the basic facts, have you hacked the system Snurt?

There is no shell, your call is clearing,
The distant chips smoke on the breadboard,
You are only coming through off pads,
Your fingers move but I can't see what you're typing.

When I was a child I caught a virus,
My filebase swelled just like two balloons
Now I've got that feeling once again,
I can't explai(core dumped), you would not understand,
This is not how I am.
I have become uncomfortably numb.

                      The Alternative Wall, Part Eight.

In a Flash
----------
So ya
Thought ya
Might like to
Go to the show
To feel the thrill of board hacking,
That luminescent glow.

I've got some bad news for you, sunshine
OPS not around, 'cos Node 5 is down,
And they sent us along, they've gone to the bar,
And we're going to find out who you guys
Really are.

Have we got any oppos on the system tonight?
Grep 'em up against the wall.
There's one on Bullet,
He don't look right to me,
Grep him up agaist the wall.
That one's called Badger,
And that one's Tyrone,
Who let all this riffraff on their own;
There's one smoking a joint and
Another with sandals?
If I had my way
I'd have all of you shot.


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Another Glitch in the Call
Original : Another Brick in the Wall
Group    : Pink Floyd
Author   : Knappy 8350428 @ UWAVM
Intro    : 
Song     : 

                      Another Glitch in the Call
                      ==========================
            (Sung to the tune of a similar Pink Floyd song.)
                (Contributed By Knappy 8350428 @ UWAVM)
 
     We don't need no indirection
     We don't need no flow control
     No data typing or declarations
        Hey!  You!  Leave those lists alone!
     Chorus:  
        All in all, it's just a pure-LISP function call.
     We don't need no side effect-ing
     We don't need no scope control
     No global variables for execution
        Hey!  You!  Leave those args alone!
     (Chorus)
     We don't need no allocation
     We don't need no special nodes
     No dark bit-flipping in the functions
        Hey!  You!  Leave those bits alone!
     (Chorus)
     We don't need no compilation
     We don't need no load control
     No link edit for external bindings
        Hey!  You!  Leave that source alone!
     (Chorus, and repeat) 


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Another One
Original : ?
Group    : ?
Author   : ?
Intro    : Not quite the usual parody, but nice for all UNIX fans among us :-)
Song     : 


better !pout !cry
better watchout
lpr why
santa claus town

cat /etc/passwd >list
ncheck list 
ncheck list
cat list | grep naughty >nogiftlist
cat list | grep nice >giftlist
santa claus  town

who | grep sleeping
who | grep awake
who | egrep 'bad|good'
for (goodness sake) {
	be good
}

    better !pout !cry
    better watchout
    lpr why
    santa claus town

    cat /etc/passwd >list
    ncheck list 
    ncheck list
    cat list | grep naughty >nogiftlist
    cat list | grep nice >giftlist
    santa claus  town

    who | grep sleeping
    who | grep awake
    who | grep bad || good
    for (goodness sake) { be good; }


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : A Time for DWIM
Original : A Time for Us
Group    : theme song from Romeo and Juliet
Author   : Guy L. Steele Jr.
Intro    : 
Song     : 

                 A Time for DWIM

           [to be sung to the tune of
                  A Time for Us
       (theme song from Romeo and Juliet)]


A time for DWIM
There'll never be;
   No clever code
   This losing mode
Can UNDO for me.

This "golden hope"
(To be denied)
   Could never
Correctly fix the bugs my programs hide.

A way for bugs
There'll never be
To fix with generality.

So to this DWIM
Let's say farewell;
   The crocks therein
   Prove it can't win
And ring its knell:

Do What I Mean
Is just a ruse --
   It really
Means only: Fix How Teitelman doth Lose!


                -- The Great Quux
                     (with apologies to
                        Rota, Kusik, and Snyder)


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : BBN Superlisp
Original : Jesus Christ Superstar
Group    : from Jesus Christ Superstar
Author   : Guy L. Steele Jr.
Intro    : 
Song     : 

            BBN Superlisp

           [to be sung to the tune of
             Jesus Christ Superstar]


Every time I look at you I don't understand
Why you think "Do What I Mean" is so cool and grand;
You'd have managed better if you'd thought it through,
Why'd you pick such an awkward way your bugs to undo?
Your hairy feature will not be the last revolution,
It's clear "Mean What I Do" is the ultimate solution!

Don't you get me wrong,
Don't you get me wrong,
Don't you get me wrong, now,
Don't you get me wrong,
I only want to hack,
I only want to hack,
I only want to hack,
I only want to hack.

BBN! BBN! Some people think you're the living end!
BBN! BBN! Some people think you're the living end!
BBN! SuperLISP! Can "Do What I Mean" measure up to this?
BBN! SuperLISP! Can "Do What I Mean" measure up to this?

Tell us what you think about your friends at the top,
Who d'you think besides yourself's the pick of the crop?
Is LISP 1.5 where it's at? Is it where you are?
Does Stanford's LISP have features too or is that just PR?
Do you have the breakpoint scheme that MACLISP is known for,
Or is that just the kind of kludge the user's on his own for?

Don't you get me wrong,
Don't you get me wrong,
Don't you get me wrong, now,
Don't you get me wrong,
I only want to hack,
I only want to hack,
I only want to hack,
I only want to hack.

BBN! BBN! Some people think you're the living end!
BBN! BBN! Some people think you're the living end!
BBN! SuperLISP! Can "Do What I Mean" measure up to this?
BBN! SuperLISP! Can "Do What I Mean" measure up to this?


                        -- The Great Quux
                             (with apologies to
                                Rice and Webber)

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Berkeley 4.3
Original : Yellow Submarine
Group    : Beatles
Author   : Jim Finnis
Intro    : [fragment]
Song     :
		In the RAM
		where I was forked,
		lived a ROM,
		who sailed the C...

		And he told,
		me of his life,
		in the Berkeley,
		4.3...

		We all live in the Berkeley 4.3,
		Berkeley 4.3, Berkeley 4.3.
		We all live in the Berkeley 4.3,
		Berkeley 4.3, Berkeley 4.3.

				((c) White the Wizard productions Ltd, 1987)


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Boot It
Original : Beat it
Group    : Michael Jackson
Author   : ?
Intro    : 
Song     : 

   
Boot It


You're processing some words when your keyboard goes dead, 
Ten pages in the buffer, should have gone to bed, 
The system just crashed, but don't lose your head,
Just BOOT IT, just BOOT IT.   


Better think fast, better do what you can,
Read the manual or call your system man, 
Don't want to fall behind in the race with Japan, 

So BOOT IT,   

Get the system manager to   BOOT IT,     BOOT IT, 
Even though you'd rather shoot it. 
Don't be upset, it's only some glitch. 
All that you do is flip a little switch. 

BOOT IT,     BOOT IT, 

Get right down and restitute it.
Don't get excited, all is not lost. 
CP/M, UNIX or MS/DOS Just BOOT IT, boot it, boot it, boot it...         

You gotta have your printout for the meeting at two, 
The system says your jobs at the head of the queue, 
Right then the thing dies but you know what to do, BOOT IT.   

You always get so worried when the system runs slow, 
And when it finally crashes, 
man you feel so low, 
But computers make mistakes (they're only human you know) 
So BOOT IT,   Call the local guru to   BOOT IT,     BOOT IT, 
Go ahead re-institute it. 
If you're not lucky, 
get the book off the shelf, 
But if you are, it'll do itself. 
BOOT IT,     BOOT IT, 
Then go find the guy who screwed it! 
Operating systems are built to bounce back, 
Whether it's a Cray or a Radio Shack.   

BOOT IT,     BOOT IT                   


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Both Ways, Now
Original : Both Sides, Now
Group    : Joni Mitchell
Author   : Guy L. Steele Jr.
Intro    : 
Song     : 

              Both Ways, Now

           [to be sung to the tune of
                Both Sides, Now]


Decimal digits in a row,
Just set the dials and let 'er go.
The ENIAC was grossly slow --
    I used to code that way,
But then this Fortran came along;
I danced and sang a happy song:
So natural -- what could go wrong?
    I little knew, that day!
I've looked at Fortran both ways, now,
At II and IV, and still somehow,
It's rows of numbers I recall;
I really don't know Fortran at all.

Fortran IV is real good stuff,
But business hackers have it tough;
For them this Fortran's not enough --
    Then Cobol saved the day!
But now I sing a sad refrain;
This Cobol loss is no one's gain,
And writing programs is a pain
    (I get writer's cramp that way!)
I've looked at Cobol both ways, now,
I code in it, and still somehow,
It's FORMAT statements I recall;
I really don't know Cobol at all.

Cobol will for business do;
Accounts and payroll make it through
(And bills for zero dollars too --
    I get them every day!)
But those who hack symbolic frobs
Cannot make do with Cobol jobs,
And now I sing through anguished sobs,
    But Lisp is here to stay.
I've looked at Lisp code both ways, now,
At lambda forms, and still somehow,
It's Cobol statements I recall;
I really don't know Lisp at all.


                -- The Great Quux
                     (with apologies to
                        Joni Mitchell)


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The Boys of HP
Original : The Boys of Summer
Group    : Don Henley
Author   : Adam Sah 
Intro    : This reminds me of something we printed here in C.S. Major Magazine
           regarding our beloved Hewlett-Packard 300 Series...
Song     : 

The Boys of HP     (sung to the tune 'The Boys of Summer' by Don Henley)
--------------
                             (csfs1 = Comp. Sci File Server 1)
Nobody in the room
no cursor on the screen
I feel it in the air
'csfs1 not responding'
empty disk, empty screen,
the server goes down alone
I was logged into my account
and I know you have no phone.

I can see it
the workstation's collecting dust
You've got your 'console long:'
and your blank screen, baby.
And I can tell you
I'll never get my source by dawn
once the boys from HP have gone.

I'll never forget those night.
I wonder if I ever got to sleep?
Remember how you made me crazy
Remember how _you_ made _me_ scream?
I don't understand what happened to my source
If I can't ever get it back,
I'm sure you have no remorse.

I can see it
the system crashing on me
you've got your pinstriped suit
and your corporate paranoia, baby.
And I can tell you
my love for this will still be strong
after the boys of HP have gone

Out in the corridors I saw
    a bunch of lost programmers
A little voice inside my head say,
    "Don't buy more,
     you should never buy more"
I thought I knew where my source was
What did I know?
Those servers are gone forever,
I should just let them go, but-

I can see it-
your drives eating my work
You've got that salesman's pitch
and your demo running baby.
and I can tell you-
my love for CS will still be strong
even after the boys from HP have gone.

(c) 1991 by Adam Sah

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : CRASH! goes the System
Original : POP goes the weasel
Group    : ?
Author   : ?
Intro    :  Here's one my father wrote some years ago.  It used to hang
            on the door to the computer room in building 2 at Goddard Space
            Flight Center (NASA).
Song     : 

		CRASH! goes the System

	Two specks of dust on a Winchester disk
	No use to hope you missed them
	That's the way computing goes--
	CRASH! goes the system.

	Go exchange the circuit boards
	Try and use your wisdom
	No way will you catch that bug--
	CRASH! goes the system.

	Our pride and joy has features galore
	It takes a day to list them
	And none of them can be used any more--
	CRASH! goes the system.
 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : CRAY-S's coolant
Original : Octopusse's Garden
Group    : Beatles
Author   : aem@aber.ac.uk (Alec David Muffett)
Intro    : [fragment]
Song     :

		I'd like to be
		under the sea,
		in a CRAY1-S's coolant in the shade

		This freon gas
		will freeze my ass,
		in a CRAY1-S's coolant in the shade...


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Cycles For Nothing
Original : Money For Nothing
Group    : Dire Straits
Author   : Matt Crawford 
Intro    : 
Song     :

		Cycles For Nothing

(i want my
 i want my
 i want my X-MP!)

Now look at them yo-yo's that's
	the way you do it
You run the fortran on the X-MP
That ain't hackin' that's the way
	you do it
Cycles for nothin', gigabits for free
Now that ain't hackin' that's the way
	you do it
Lemme tell ya them guys ain't dumb
Maybe Monte Carlo on a three-quark
	system
Maybe design a little neutron bomb

 We gotta install microwave uplinks
 Custom fuzzballs for everyone
 We gotta link up DDS circuits
 BERT and loopback tests to run

See the kid professor with the blue
	jeans and the necktie
Yeah buddy that's his own hair
That kid professor got his Nobel
	prize now
That kid professor he's a millionaire

 We gotta install microwave uplinks
 Custom fuzzballs for everyone
 We gotta link up DDS circuits
 BERT and loopback tests to run

I shoulda stuck to writing in fortran
I shoulda kept that old 029
Look at that output, he got it stacked
	up to the ceilin'
I bet he ain't read one line
And in there, what's that?
	A hundred postdocs?
Bangin' on the keyboards like some
	chimpanzees
That ain't hackin' that's the way you
	do it
Cycles for nothin', gigabits for free

 We gotta install microwave uplinks
 Custom fuzzballs for everyone
 We gotta link up DDS circuits
 BERT and loopback tests to run


		by Matt Crawford


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The Day Bell System Died
Original : American Pie
Group    : Don Mclean
Author   : Lauren Weinstein 
Intro    : Greetings.  With the massive changes now taking place in the 
           telecommunications industry, we're all being inundated with
           seemingly endless news items and points of information regarding 
           the various effects now beginning to take place.  However, one 
           important element has been missing: a song!  Since the great
           Tom Lehrer has retired from the composing world, I will now
           attempt to fill this void with my own light-hearted, non-serious
           look at a possible future of telecommunications.  This work is 
           entirely satirical, and none of its lyrics are meant to be 
           interpreted in a non-satirical manner.  The song should be sung
           to the tune of Don Mclean's classic "American Pie".
           I call my version "The Day Bell System Died"...

Song     : 
		   *==================================*
		   * Notice: This is a satirical work *
		   *==================================*

	                "The Day Bell System Died"         

              Lyrics Copyright (C) 1983 by Lauren Weinstein   
		                                           	
     	             (To the tune of "American Pie")
		     (With apologies to Don McLean)
   
  ARPA: vortex!lauren@LBL-CSAM
  UUCP: {decvax, ihnp4, harpo, ucbvax!lbl-csam, randvax}!vortex!lauren


Long, long, time ago,
I can still remember,
When the local calls were "free".
And I knew if I paid my bill,
And never wished them any ill,
That the phone company would let me be...

But Uncle Sam said he knew better,
Split 'em up, for all and ever!
We'll foster competition:
It's good capital-ism!

I can't remember if I cried,
When my phone bill first tripled in size.
But something touched me deep inside,
The day... Bell System... died.

And we were singing...

Bye, bye, Ma Bell, why did you die?
We get static from Sprint and echo from MCI,
"Our local calls have us in hock!" we all cry.
Oh Ma Bell why did you have to die?
Ma Bell why did you have to die?

Is your office Step by Step,
Or have you gotten some Crossbar yet?
Everybody used to ask...
Oh, is TSPS coming soon?
IDDD will be a boon!
And, I hope to get a Touch-Tone phone, real soon...

The color phones are really neat,
And direct dialing can't be beat!
My area code is "low":
The prestige way to go!

Oh, they just raised phone booths to a dime!
Well, I suppose it's about time.
I remember how the payphones chimed,
The day... Bell System... died.

And we were singing...

Bye, bye, Ma Bell, why did you die?
We get static from Sprint and echo from MCI,
"Our local calls have us in hock!" we all cry.
Oh Ma Bell why did you have to die?
Ma Bell why did you have to die?

Back then we were all at one rate,
Phone installs didn't cause debate,
About who'd put which wire where...
Installers came right out to you,
No "phone stores" with their ballyhoo,
And 411 was free, seemed very fair!

But FCC wanted it seems,
To let others skim long-distance creams,
No matter 'bout the locals,
They're mostly all just yokels!

And so one day it came to pass,
That the great Bell System did collapse,
In rubble now, we all do mass,
The day... Bell System... died.

So bye, bye, Ma Bell, why did you die?
We get static from Sprint and echo from MCI,
"Our local calls have us in hock!" we all cry.
Oh Ma Bell why did you have to die?
Ma Bell why did you have to die?

I drove on out to Murray Hill,
To see Bell Labs, some time to kill,
But the sign there said the Labs were gone.
I went back to my old CO,
Where I'd had my phone lines, years ago,
But it was empty, dark, and ever so forlorn...

No relays pulsed,
No data crooned,
No MF tones did play their tunes,
There wasn't a word spoken,
All carrier paths were broken...

And so that's how it all occurred,
Microwave horns just nests for birds,
Everything became so absurd,
The day... Bell System... died.

So bye, bye, Ma Bell, why did you die?
We get static from Sprint and echo from MCI,
"Our local calls have us in hock!" we all cry.
Oh Ma Bell why did you have to die?
Ma Bell why did you have to die?

We were singing:

Bye, bye, Ma Bell, why did you die?
We get static from Sprint and echo from MCI,
"Our local calls have us in hock!" we all cry.
Oh Ma Bell why did you have to die?


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Title    : The Disks of UNIX
Original : Sound of Silence
Group    : Simon and Garfunkel
Author   : ? Malcolm Dickinson 
Intro    : 
Song     : 

     
                          The Disks of UNIX
                          =================
          Submitted by Malcolm Dickinson 
               Sung to the Tune of "Sounds of Silence"
                        by Simon and Garfunkel
     
Hello comix my old friend.
I've come to program you again.
because a student softly creeping,
guessed my password while I was sleeping.
And the programs
with just remnants in my brain,
don't remain,
upon the disks... of UNIX.
     
In flick'ring lights I type along.
Load my program, what was wrong?
Letters haloed by my squinting,
at the program that I was lint-ing.
For my eyes were blurred
by the flash of the cathode beam,
term'nal screen,
and all the C... on UNIX.
     
And in the fuzzy light I saw
10,000 hackers, maybe more:
Hackers staring without blinking,
hackers typing without thinking.
Hackers writing code
that programs never shared.
(No one dared,
disturb the disks... of UNIX.)
     
"Fools," said I, "you do not know.
Kludges make the d.u. grow.
Comment functions that I might read them.
Update man-files 'cause I might need them."
But my words
like unread printout fell,
(Oh well...)
An echo,
On the disks... of UNIX.


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Title    : Don't Call From Home
Original : The Man's Too Strong
Group    : Dire Straits
Author   : Jonathon Luning 
Intro    : 
Song     : 

     
                         Don't Call From Home
                         ====================
                 by Jonathon Luning 
              Sung to the Tune of "The Man's Too Strong"
                           by Dire Straits
     
            I'm just an ageing hacker-boy
            And in the days I used to play
            And I've called the tune
            To many a system's ruin.
            Now they say I am a real criminal
            And I'm hiding away.
            Just one more terminal session.
     
            I have simplified robbery
            With my PCs.
            I have called in the money
            And it's now overseas.
            I have re-written bank accounts
            With thousands on my books;
            Made up identities
            Without changing my looks.
     
            And I can still hear the touch-tones
            And the clicks on the phone.
            Don't call too long.
            Don't call from home.
     
            Well I've cracked IBM
            And I've cracked NSA
            And I've cracked every network
            In the whole USA.
            I have called out on Sprint
            And from any payphone;
            Billed to people
            I never have known.
     
            And I can still hear the touch-tones
            And the clicks on the phone.
            Don't call too long.
            Don't call from home.
     
            Well the sun comes in my office
            And they all did hear him say
            "You're really too much for us,
            You're worth more than we can pay.
            You may still hear from Burroughs
            But I ask you now today:
            Won't you please work with us
            At the good old CIA?"
            Now I run all surveillance
            From LA to Kremlin's dome.
            Don't call too long.
            Don't call from home.
     

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Title    : Don't Have a Conniption
Original : Walk Like an Egyptian
Group    : Bangles
Author   : Brent C.J. Britton
Intro    : 
Song     : 
     
                       Don't Have a Conniption
                       =======================
                        by Brent C.J. Britton
             Sung to the tune of "Walk Like an Egyptian"
                            by the Bangles
     
           All the system ops in this place,
           They monitor me, just for fun.
           If I logon here,
           (ohwayoh)
           They force me off 'fore my profile runs.
     
           'Cause I have a reputation
           For doing things which I shouldn't be,
           Like running CHATS,
           (ohwayoh)
           And bootlegging Lotus-123.
     
           So you see, when they yell at me, I say,
           (wayohwayoh, wayohwayoh)
           "Don't have a conniption..."
     
           Found how to change all my privs;
           I didn't know that I broke a rule.
           I forced the op,
           (ohwayoh)
           I dropped the link, then I purged the spool.
     
           All the sys ops, so sick of me,
           They don't let my databases run.
           I broke CP,
           (ohwayoh)
           They had a big fat connip-tion.
     
           When they NOLOG my account, I say
           (wayohwayoh, wayohwayoh)
           "Don't have a conniption..."
     
           They've hated me since I stored
           Inside the real PSW.
           We crashed hard you know,
           (ohwayoh)
           I guess I forgot a bit or two.
     
           If you want to find software cops,
           They're hanging out in the software shops.
           They kick your pants,
           (ohwayoh)
           And give the boot to your VMBLOCK.
     
           I ran my Turing Machine;
           Another one was assembl'in.
           And it crunched all night,
           (ohwayoh)
           The system op had connip'tions.
     
           To software cops in the software shops, I say
           (wayohwayoh, wayohwayoh)
           "Don't have a conniption..."
           "Don't have a conniption."
     

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Title    : Emacs Wizard
Original : Pinball Wizard
Group    : The Who
Author   : ?
Intro    : Complete with formatting and all :-)
Song     : 

\documentstyle[twocolumn,12pt]{article}

\begin{document}

\begin{verse}


Ever since I was a young boy\\
I've played with each O.S.\\
>From Unix down to Kronos \\
I've crashed them I confess\\
But I ain't seen nothing like him\\
Not even in VMS\\
That set-mark and bind kid\\
Sure strokes a mean Emacs.

He sits there never blinking\\
Becomes part of the machine\\
Controls with either pinkie\\
A virtual typing stream\\
He optimizes keystrokes\\
Swamps your Microvax\\
That set-mark and bind kid\\
Sure strokes a mean Emacs.

He's an Emacs wizard \\
Without a binding list\\
An Emacs wizard \\
s' got such a calloused wrist.

How do you think he does it? I don't know!\\
What makes him so good?
\newpage

He ain't got no distractions\\
He refuses warning bells\\
He heeds no cursor flashing\\
Plays by sense of smell\\
He never needs to undo\\
Knows all of Stallman's hacks\\
That set-mark and bind kid\\
Sure strokes a mean Emacs.

I thought I was \\
The keyboard-macro  kid\\
But I just handed\\
My Emacs crown to him.

Even my usual bindings\\
He prefixed all my best\\
His disciples feed him Coke\\
And he just does the rest\\
He's got super-meta-fingers\\
Never hits the cracks\\
That set-mark and bind kid\\
Sure strokes a mean Emacs.

\end{verse}
\end{document}


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Title    : Every Cycle is Sacred
Original : Every Sperm is Sacred
Group    : Monty Python (Meaning of Life)
Author   : Tony Duell  
Intro    : 
Song     : 


There are Suns in this world, there are Apples,
There are Sequents and Goulds and then,
There are those who clone I B M, BUT
I've never been one of them.

For I'm an 11/45
and have been since the day I was made
And the one thing they say about PDP's is
They'll run no matter what they said,
You don't have to be in a six-footer,
You don't have to have a 9-slot backplane
You don't have to have Memory Management,
You're booted the moment DCLO came, For

Every Cycle is Sacred,
Every Cycle is Great,
If a cycle gets wasted,
DEC gets quite irate!

{Repeat}

Let the others waste them,
On floating-point multiply
DEC shall make them pay for
Each add able to be skipped by.

Every cycle is wanted
Every cycle is good
Every cycle is needed
In your neighbourhood

Intel, Sun and Zilog
Branch their's just anywhere
DEC loves those who write
Their Microcode with more care

Every cycle is useful
Every cycle is fine
DEC saves everybody's
Time and Time and Time.

Other systems waste theirs
while fetching o'er t'backplane
DEC shall strike them down for
each cycle thats run in vain

Every cycle is sacred,
Every cycle is great,
If a cycle gets wasted,
DEC GETS QUITE IRATE!!!


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Title    : Fork()ing on a Sun
Original : Seasons in the Sun
Group    : Don Henley (?)
Author   : aem@aber.ac.uk (Alec David Muffett)
Intro    : Here's a little ditty I penned back in 1987 when I was first
           getting to grips with IP (and killing the machine at the same time).
           If you don't recognise the words well enough to get the tune, you
           weren't born...  as for pronunciation, pronounce "vi" as "vye" -
           that way, the song scans properly.  No flames, please... 
           The chorus is a wonderful thing to sing in pubs (bars) when you
           and a group of hackers get together, because it is eminently recog-
           nisable, but no-one outside your group will have the foggiest idea
           what you're on about...
           [fragment]
Song     :

		Goodbye my shell, it's hard to "vi",
		I cannot socket(), even though I try,
		Everything keeps going wrong...
		It needs a bind() to carry on,
		Proc' table's been full for too long.

	Chorus:
		We had Joy, We had fun,
		We were fork()ing on a Sun,
		but the joy is all gone,
		'til the processes are Done [1].


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Friend of the System
Original : Friend of the Devil
Group    : Jerry Garcia & Robert Hunter
Author   : Larry Stone 
Intro    : 
Song     : 
     
                         Friend of the System
                         ====================
                    By Larry Stone 
             Submitted by Jeff Brandenburg 
              Sung to the tune of "Friend of the Devil"
                   by Jerry Garcia & Robert Hunter
     
  I logged on to the Ed-VAX, left a trail of coffee grounds.
  Didn't get to sleep that night 'til the morning came around.
     
Chorus:
  Said I'll run my program but it will take some time;
  A friend of the System is a friend of mine.
  If I get done before daylight,
  I just might write some code tonight.
     
  Ran into the System, baby, and it tried to blow me off.
  Spent the evening learning Pascal but still all it does is scoff!
     
(chorus)
     
  I tried to run the editor, but the System caught me there;
  It took my FORTRAN program and it vanished in the air!
     
(chorus)
     
  Got two reasons why I stay awake each night and day;
  The first one's name I can't pronounce, but he is my TA.
  The second one's my college Dean, 'cause I'm about to fail!
  She says if I don't pass C.S. I won't be long at Yale.
     
  Got a program in T-Lisp, baby, and one in FORTRAN IV.
  The first one has a hundred bugs but the other one has more!
     
(chorus)
     

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Title    : Gateway To Heaven
Original : Stairway To Heaven
Group    : Led Zeppelin
Author   : EileenET Tronolone 
Intro    : I just had to send it in, fellas. I'm sorry. I could not let all
           that stuff go by and not send it in.
Song     : 


Gateway To Heaven

There's a lady who knows
All the systems and nodes
And she's byteing a Gateway to Heaven
She telnets there, she knows
All the ports have been closed
With a nerd she can get
Files she came for

Woohoohoo
Woo Hoo Hoo HooHoo
And she's byteing a Gateway to Heaven
There's an motd
But she wants to be sure
Cos she knows sometimes hosts have
Two domains
In a path by the NIC
There's a burdvax that pings
Sometimes all of our flames
are cross-posted

Woohoohoo
Woo Hoo Hoo HooHoo
And she's byteing a Gateway to Heaven
And it's processed by root
Unix Labs will reboot
NCR will then listen to reason
And a prompt will respawn
For those yet to logon
And the networks will echo much faster

Woohoohoo
Woo Hoo Hoo HooHoo
And she's byteing a Gateway to Heaven
If there's a lookup in your netstat
don't be .alarmed now
it's just a pinging from the link queen
Yes there are two routes you can type in
but in the long run
there's still time to change the net you're on
(I hope so!)

And as we find stuff to download
We ftp and we chmod
There was a sysadm we know
Who changed the server to her own
She had root privs and she used chown
She hacked out on the DDN
And if you tail her stdin
Then you will find what you had lost
And get it back with cpio
To be a hack and not to scroll...

And she's byteing a Gateway to Heaven


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Title    : HACKADU
Original : ?
Group    : Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Author   : Stuart McLure Cracraft
Intro    : 
Song     : 


	HACKADU

In Hackadu did Hackers Few
  An awesome program-hack command:
Where 20, the sacred system, grew
Through monitors nobody knew
  Down during the great demand.
Always twice two months to newer release
With TTY's and EMACS to bring the peace:
And here was software smothered by edit-line effects,
Where many a bureaucrat sauntered across the land,
And where MSG/TELNET/FTP were ancient as TENEX,
Constricting winning spots into the bland.

But oh! those abiding Hackers Few were cunning
And lept the heights of unimaginable lossage!
A savage place; as daemonical and sinning
as e'er which plastered a screen with "%DECSYSTEM-20 Not Winning"
B'fore users exchausted from the barfage!
And from this chaos, with irresistable force,
As if this thing were itself the Source,
A mighty idea came glistening to Hackers Fewest
Amid whose logic the sinning 20 burst
Huge fragments of scheduler flung forth like rebounding netmail,
Or chaffy words beneath the BLT's flail:
And 'mid this stupendous destruction at once and forever
It flung up the 20 to permanently sever.
Pages and pages of listings the burning grew
Through structures and directories in the Coup,
Then reached the sources known to few,
And slaughtered in tumult the offending mass:
And 'mid this tumult Hackers Few heard from afar
Ancestral systems declaring war!

    The shadows of the program-hack
    Floated strongly on the net;
    Where was heard the anguished cry of the Sack
    From which they inferred they'd win, they bet.
A true war of Hackers Few against Timesharing,
With the ancestors of the 20 battling forth with infinite daring!

    A 10 with a mighty cpu
    In this battle the Hackers Few espied:
    It was a DEC original that knew,
    That once the Hackers Few irresistibly grew,
    It would forever be banned to limbo.
    Could it wreak havoc upon the Few?
    With its powerful CPU?
    To such a deep satisfaction the answer is no,
That with a slice of their sword through its board,
The Hackers Few did clobber its bagbiting cord,
To realize the Source, the Idea, the Solution!
And all the users who saw this mighty battle raging,
And shrieked, Tsk! Tsk!
While the 10s' and 20s' flashed screens, their crashing disks!
The Few weaved a carnage about this awful outpouring,
And closed the 10s' and 20s' eyes,
For the Hackers Few had earlier fed upon the lies
And now had drunk the milk of Personal Computing.


			Stuart McLure Cracraft
			   (with apologies to Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The Hacker Song
Original : Put Another Nickel In
Group    : ?
Author   : Chesire Catalyst
Intro    : 
Song     : 

Put another password in,
Bomb it out and try again.
Try to get past logging in,
We're hacking, hacking, hacking.

Try his first wife's maiden name.
This is more than just a game.
It's real fun, but just the same,
It's hacking, hacking, hacking.

Sys-call, let's try sys-call.
Remember, that great bug from version 3,
Of R S X, It's here!  Whoopie!

Put another sys-call in,
Run those passwords out and then,
Dial back up, we're logging in.
It's hacking, hacking, hacking!


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The HACTRN
Original : The Raven
Group    : Edgar Allan Poe
Author   : Guy L. Steele Jr.
Intro    : [a bit longish - sth]
Notes for those not familar with the terms in this poem:

TTY ("titty") = any terminal, not necessarily a teletype (in this case,
	a CRT); in particular, a terminal associated with and in control
	of a job tree (see "DDT" below).  The terminal may be passed up
	and down the job tree; at any point in time only one job in the
	tree may use the tree's TTY. When ^Z is typed on the TTY, the
	system intervenes, stopping the job which has the TTY, and
	interrupts that job's superior in the tree, which may then grab
	the TTY from the inferior job.

DDT ("dee dee tee") = HACTRN ("hack-tran") = top level debugging and job
	controlling procedure, capable of controlling up to eight
	simultaneous jobs (which may themselves be DDTs!) and performing
	other miscellaneous functions.	HACTRN specifically denotes a
	DDT at the top of a job tree, while DDT is the more general
	term.  The two terms refer to the same job in the poem, and are
	thus treated as synonymous.  Note that DDT requires its subjobs
	to have unique names for obvious reasons;  hence the concern
	over seven jobs all named FOO.

PEEK = a program similar to the SYSTAT of certain PDP-10 monitor systems
	of dubious quality. PEEK is actually much more versatile, giving
	information in any of some dozen modes, such a job status,
	DECtape status, Arpanet sockets, terminal status, and scheduler
	variables and statistics.  It also has provisions for
	maintaining a continuously updated display on a CRT, and for
	line printer usage.

TECO ("teeko") = text editor and corrector (that is, the good version of
	several versions of TECO which are floating around).

:KILL ("colon kill") = message typed out by DDT whenever it kills a
	subjob.  Note that subjobs, if running, may request DDT to kill
	themselves.  If the job does not have the TTY when it makes such
	a request, DDT merely rings the TTY's bell (which on the CRT in
	the poem above is a particularly obnoxious flavor of "beep"),
	and prints nothing until you ascend to DDT, and perhaps type J
	(see below).

LOCK = utility program, which interprets the particular command "nKILL"
	to mean "please bring the time-sharing system down in n minutes"
	(where it is required that n5).  The system will then go down
	at the prescribed time unless the request is countermanded with
	a "REVIVE" request.

ITS = Incompatible Timesharing System, the good timesharing system for
	the PDP-10.

DSKDMP ("disk dump") = program used to, among other things, bootstrap
	ITS into a running state.

 = "altmode"; read it as such to preserve the meter.

V = command to DDT, requesting it to print out the names of all its
	subjobs.

J = command to DDT, asking that it select the job which has requested
	attention so that it may be dealt with.  DDT responds
	"jobnameJ" so that you will know which job it was.

^Z ("control zee") = command to ITS to stop the job which currently has
	the TTY, and interrupt the next higher job in the job tree.
	Ordinarily this has the effect of returning to DDT.

0/ ("zero slash") = command to DDT, asking it to print out the contents
	of location zero of the selected subjob.  This operation is
	theoretically transparent to the subjob itself.

RMS = Richard M. Stallman, who does an admirable job of keeping DDT, as
	well as many other programs, relatively bug-free.

(C) Copyright 1973, 1974 Guy L. Steele Jr.  All rights reserved.

Song     : 


			The HACTRN

Once before a console dreary, while I programmed, weak and weary,
Over many a curious program which did TECO's buffer fill, --
While I pondered, nearly sleeping, suddenly there came a feeping,
As of something gently beeping, beeping with my console's bell.
"'Tis my DDT," I muttered, "feeping on my console's bell:
	Once it feeped, and now is still."

Ah, distinctly I remember that dark night in bleak December,
And each separate glowing symbol danced before me, bright and chill.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
>From my HACTRN aid for sorrow -- sorrow for the bugs which fill --
For the strange unknown and nameless bugs which ever all my programs fill --
	Bugs which now I searched for still.

And the coughing, whirring, gritty fan I heard inside my TTY
Made me with fantastic terrors never known before to thrill;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart I stood repeating,
"'Tis some interrupt entreating DDT to signal me --
Some strange interrupt entreating DDT to signal me --
	Its importance surely nil."

Presently my soul grew stronger: hesitating then no longer
I decided that I would respond to this strange program's call;
TECO, which I then attended, to my soul more strength extended;
With ^Z I ascended, going to my DDT --
V I typed, and answered soon my DDT --
	TECO there, and that was all!

Dumbly at my console peering, as I sat there, wondering, fearing,
Doubting now that any interrupt was ever there to call;
But the silence was unbroken, and my HACTRN gave no token,
And the only sound there spoken from my TTY's whirring fan --
The low and rough and distant sound came from my TTY's whirring fan --
	TECO there, and that was all.

Back into my TECO going, with my pounding heart now slowing,
Soon again I heard a feeping, somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely this is some strange bug of RMS's
Which an interrupt professes, though I have no other job;
Let me then ask DDT if it thinks there's another job --
	'Tis a bug, and nothing more!"

Again I went up to my HACTRN while cold shivers up my back ran
V I typed, my jobs now once more to display.
Only TECO was there listed; though my trembling heart resisted
Yet I willed my hand, insisted, J to quickly type --
To answer this bold query DDT did hesitantly type
	A ghostly "FOOBARJ".

>From V protected, now, this phantom job, selected
Gave no clue to why it had invoked that former beeping shrill.
"Though," I said, "you're no inferior, I shall act as your superior
And examine your interior, this strange matter to explore."
Then I typed a 0/ this matter further to explore --
	Quoth the HACTRN, ":KILL".

Much I worried -- this outrageous bug might prove to be contagious,
Though thus far it had not seemed to do my TECO any ill:
For we cannot help concurring such a bug would cause a stirring,
Feeping on a console whirring, disappearing then from sight --
An evanescent mystery subjob disappearing then from sight
	With no clue but ":KILL"!

But my HACTRN, swapping, running, gave no further sign of cunning
By this unknown phantom, which was in a thirty second sleep;
None of this I comprehended; to my TECO I descended,
And in terror I pretended that the bug had gone away --
I pretended that for good the mystery bug had gone away --
	When my console gave a feep.

Now I quickly, hoping, praying, started up a PEEK displaying
All the the jobs and subjobs there which did the system fill:
What I found was quite unpleasant, for there was no FOOBAR present:
Only TECO was there present, underneath my DDT;
I quit the PEEK, and "FOOBARJ" typed out my DDT --
	Then quoth the HACTRN, ":KILL".

But -- this FOOBAR now beguiling all my sad soul into smiling --
I tightly grinned, determined that this glitch should cause nobody ill;
Now, into my armchair sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking why this unknown phantom job --
Why this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and unknown phantom job
	Feeped and did a ":KILL".

This I sat engaged in guessing, but conceived no thought expressing
How a phantom job could sound those strange and ghostly beeps;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining,
With the symbols coldly shining at me from the CRT,
With the bright, sharp symbols coldly shining on the CRT --
	Which suddenly gave seven feeps!

Then methought the air grew denser, filled with clouds which grew immenser,
As when under darkened daylight thick and stormy weather brews;
With some bit of hesitation stemming from my trepidation
Again I typed that incantation finding out how much I'd lose --
V I typed again to find how much I'd lose --
	TECO there, and seven FOOs!

"Job!" said I, "with ghostly manner! -- subjob still, if LISP or PLANNER!
Whether accident, or feeping as another hacker wills!
Tell me now why I am losing, why my HACTRN you're abusing,
Which no doubt is of your choosing: echo truly on my screen!"
Then DDT as if in answer echoed quickly on my screen,
	Typing seven ":KILLs".

"Job!" said I, "with ghostly manner! -- subjob still, if LISP or PLANNER!
By the ITS above us which the DSKDMP doth fulfill,
I shall be the system's saviour: I shall mend your crude behaviour,
I shall halt your strange behaviour, and thee from the system lock!"
Madly, wildly laughing I made DDT invoke a LOCK,
	And quickly typed thereat -- "5KILL"!

"Be this now our sign of parting, phantom job!" I shrieked, upstarting,
As my HACTRN now informed me ITS was going down in 5:00.
"You have run your last instruction and performed your final function!"
But, refuting this deduction HACTRN then my TTY grabbed --
To type out yet another message HACTRN now my TTY grabbed --
	Quoth the HACTRN, "ITS REVIVED!"

And the FOOBAR, never sleeping, still is beeping, still is beeping
On the glaring console out from which I cannot even log!
And other happenings yet stranger indicate inherent danger
When bugs too easily derange or mung the programs of machines;
When programs too "intelligent" start taking over the machines:
	Is this the end of AutoProg?

				-- The Great Quux
				     (with apologies to
					Edgar Allan Poe)

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : I Could Have Tooled All Night
Original : I Could Have Danced All Night
Group    : from My Fair Lady
Author   : Guy L. Steele Jr.
Intro    : 
Song     : 

         I Could Have Tooled All Night

           [to be sung to the tune of
          I Could Have Danced All Night
               from My Fair Lady]


Tool! Tool! I feel like such a fool!
All term I goofed off; I can't catch up now!
Sleep! Sleep! I've got to get some sleep!
Tooling wouldn't help me anyhow!

I could have tooled all night,
   I could have tooled all night,
      and still have tooled some more;
I could have been absurd,
   Learned all my Latin verbs,
      It wouldn't raise my score.
I can't remember all those theorems,
      And all those facts from my mind flee --
I only know exams,
   Are why one usually crams,
     But tooling never could help me!

I could have tooled all night,
   I could have tooled all night,
      And memorized each book;
I only now regret,
   My sections never met,
      And lectures I forsook.
I cross my fingers now in terror,
      I only hope some luck's with me --
But had I tooled or not,
   I'd still be on the spot,
      My goofing off deserves the E!


                        -- The Great Quux
                             (with apologies to
                                Lerner and Loewe)

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : I'm Typing Backwards for Christmas
Original : I'm walking Backwards for Christmas
Group    : Spike Milligan and another
Author   : Russell Street 
Intro    : 
Song     : 

I'm Typing Backwards for Christmas
----------------------------------
(Adapted from "I'm walking Backwards for Christmas",
	by Spike Milligan and another.)
Adaption by Russell Street (russells@ccu1.aukuni.ac.nz)


I'm typing backwards for Christmas,
Across the TCP/IP,
I'm typing backwards for Christmas,
It's the only thing for me.

I've tried posting sideways,
And mailing to the front,
But people just look at it,
And say it's a publicity stunt.

I'm typing backwards for Christmas,
To prove that I love you.


An imigrantal telnet, loved an Irish inetd
>From Dublin University's VAX.
He longed for her XONs,
But spurned his charms,
And connected with a former socket.

She left the telnet by himself, on his own
All alone, EWOULDBLOCKing
And sadly he dreamed, or at least that's the
	way it seemed, buddy,
That an angel quieted him....
An angel quieted the same.



I'm typing backwards for Christmas,
Across the TCP/IP.
I'm typing backwards for Christmas,
It's the finest thing for me.


And so I've tried posting sideways,
And mailing to the front.
But people just flamed, and said,
"It's a publicity stunt".

So I'm typing backwards for Christmas
To prove that I love you.




@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : I Want a New Bug
Original : I Want a New Drug
Group    : Huey Lewis and the News
Author   : Nelson Bishop 
Intro    : 
Song     : 


I Want a New Bug
(To the tune of: I Want a New Drug,  Huey Lewis and the News)

I want a new bug.
One I don't have to fix.
One that wont make me crash my disks.
Or make me use menu picks

I want a new bug
One I don't have to dread.
One that wont turn the cursor black
Or make my graph too red.

Chorus:
One that wont make me nervous
Wonderin' what to do.
One that makes me feel
Like I feel when I'm all through.
When I'm all done and through.

I want a new bug.
One that wont kill.
One that wont thrash too much
Or end in a Nil.

I want a new bug.
One that wont go away.
One that wont keep me up all night.
One that wont make me work all day.

(Chorus)

I want a new bug.
One that wont show.
One that wont make it run too fast.
One that wont make it run too slow.

I want a new bug.
One with no doubt.
One that wont spin the disk too much
Or make me use break out.

(Chorus)
 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : I am the very model of a Genius Computational
Original : I am the very model of a modern major-general
Group    : Gilbert & Sullivan
Author   : (First seen at Cambridge, England?)
Intro    : 
Song     : 

I am the very model of a genius computational:
At writing of assembler code I really am sensational.
I'm not afraid of SVC's, to macros I am much attached;
Load modules I make elegant, well optimised, DEBUGged and PATCHed.

I know the different languages: in Fortran and BCPL,
In Algol, Snobol, PL/I, in Lisp and Cobol I excel.
Numerical analysis? My algorithms make y' gape!
I read my favourite novels in editions punched on paper tape.

I'm very good at file control - my DCB's are always right.
My use of ZED's so subtle, people stay to watch me half the night.
I know what's wrong with the machine if it's not operational -
And thus I am the model of a genius computational!


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Into the Tube
Original : Into The Groove
Group    : Madonna
Author   : Mike Portuesi 
Intro    : 
Song     : 
     
                            Into the Tube
                            =============
                 by Mike Portuesi 
                Sung to the tune of "Into The Groove"
                              by Madonna
     
And you can hack,
For computation.
Come on,
It's waiting...
     
Chorus:
Stare into the tube,
Boy, you've got to prove
Your subroutine.
RS-232,
And full duplex too,
With no parity.
     
Hacking can be such a revelation,
When you can find your missing declaration.
It might be running if the code is right;
I hope to fix a major bug tonight.
     
Only when I'm hacking can I feel this free.
At night I buy some Coke,
And hack till after three.
I'm tired of all those GOTO's by themselves.
Tonight, I want to write
with IF-THEN-ELSE!
     
(chorus)
     
You've got to type NEW
in a special way,
Or else it won't clear
Out your first array.
Don't try to run it with your memory size.
I've got an error on the hard disk drive.
     
Only when I'm hacking,
Can I feel this free.
At night I buy some Coke,
And hack till after three.
I'm tired of all those GOTO's by themselves.
Tonight, I want to write
with IF-THEN-ELSE!
     
(chorus)
     
Live out your fantasy,
Written in C.
Just let those macros
Set you free.
Touch my BREAK key,
In real time.
Now I'm not on line.
     
(chorus)
     
Only when I'm hacking,
Can I feel this free.
At night I buy some Coke,
And hack till after three.
I'm tired of all those GOTO's by themselves.
Tonight, I want to write
with IF-THEN-ELSE!
     
Live out your fantasy,
Written in C.
Just let those macros
Set you free.
Touch my BREAK key,
In real time.
Now I'm not on line,
Now I'm not on line,
Now I'm not on line,
Now I'm not on line (nasal, like Madonna)
Now I'm not on line.
     
(repeat chorus - fade out)

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : JES The mighty system
Original : Puff the Magic Dragon
Group    : ?
Author   : ?
Intro    : 
Song     : 

JES The mighty system
Ran my C-P-U
It did my work with-out a quirk
And never was I blue

An M-V-S sub-system
JES-2 could not fail
It printed jobs and punched my cards
And e-ven did NET-mail

My users were unhappy
M-V-S was hard to learn
They wanted something eas-i-er
A place where they could turn

So when my boss assigned me
To find a better way
I started searching for soft-ware
That might make their day

I thought we would try U-NIX
But that was even worse
While I-B-M has P-L-S
'C' is far too terse

My time was running out
And I was not inspired
I knew it would be two more weeks
Before I would be fired

JES the mighty system
Ran my C-P-U
It did my work without a quirk
And never was I blue

An M-V-S subsystem
JES-2 could not fail
It printed jobs and punch my cards
And e-ven did NET-mail

I was getting worried
And so I came to SHARE
I asked around and what I found
Was a big teddy BEAR

Software that was simple
Eas-y to understand
With V-M in the world today
All others would be canned

My users were now happy
Content and worry free
V-M and friendly C-M-S
Sure saved the day for me

The only thing I'll miss
That M-V-S pro-vides
Is all that great JES-2 source code
That I-B-M can't hide

JES the mighty system
Ran my C-P-U
It did my work with-out a quirk
And never was I blue

An M-V-S sub-system
JES-2 could not fail
It printed jobs and punched my cards
And e-ven did NET-mail

Some systems live forever
But not so M-V-S
'Cause T-S-O and S-M-P
Are too much of a mess

V-M is like heaven
It's software you can trust
But as I'm sure you're all aware
That source code is a must

My eyes looked t'ward tomorrow
As I scratched my C-D-S
I'd never have to worry now
Which SYS-MODS I'd regress

Without a super-visor
JES-2 could not be run
And so that code of Houston fame
Just rode into the sun

Jes the mighty system
Ran my C-P-U
It did my work with-out a quirk
And never was I blue

An M-V-S sub-system
JES-2 could not fail
It printed jobs and punched my cards
And e-ven did NET-mail


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Just remember that you're flying o'er a disk pack....
Original : Just remember that you're standing...
Group    : Monty Python, (Meaning of Life)
Author   : Tony Duell  
Intro    : 
Song     : 

Just remember that you're flying
over a disk pack that's revolving
and revolving
at 90,000 revs an hour
and seeking at 100 tracks a second
so its reckoned
for a system that is the source of all our power.
The disk and you and me,
and all the files that we can see
are transfering at 180,000 bytes a sec,
in an outer system rack at 25,000 blocks an hour
for controller that was made by DEC

The controller itself is called an RK11-C
Its 10 and a half inches side to side
It's made from flip-chip, that is plain to see
and the data path is 16 bits wide
We're 15 devices from the bus arbitor,
we get served every 200 millisec,
and our system is just one of hundreds and thousands
on the amazing and expanding UNIBUS

The UNIBUS itself keeps on transfering
and transfering
all of the data it can whiz.
as fast as it can go,
it's asynchronous you know,
3 million bytes a second and thats the fastest that there is
So remember when you're waiting for the Non-processor grant,
how amazingly unlikely is a crash,
And pray that someone's changed the filters last week,
or we will soon be ready for the trash !!!!!!


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Lambda Bound
Original : Homeward Bound
Group    : Simon & Garfunkel
Author   : Guy L. Steele Jr.
Intro    : 
Song     : 


                  Lambda Bound

           [to be sung to the tune of
                 Homeward Bound]


I'm just a little value cell,
And I play my special role so well --
        Hmmm --
Serving as a global switch
To predicate some system glitch;
But some strange value -- who knows which? --
Could cause me functions to bewitch!
        Lambda bound!
I wish I was
        Lambda bound!
Bound, so no SETQ's get me;
Bound, so quits will reset me;
Bound, where I can forget my
        Top-level value.

It's hard to catch those system screws:
'Most any value causes me to lose --
        Hmmm --
Each atom looks the same to me,
Whose interned name I cannot see,
And every NIL and every T
Reminds me that I long to be
        Lambda bound!
I wish I was
        Lambda bound!
Bound, so no SETQ's get me;
Bound, so quits will reset me;
Bound, where I can forget my
        Top-level value.

Next time I'll have a MAR break set
And try to catch each clobber threat --
        Hmmm, mmmm --
The next covert attempt to mung
Will cause the MAR break to be sprung,
But then the poor LISP will be hung
Because I'm not as I have sung:
        Lambda bound!
I wish I was
        Lambda bound!
Bound, so no SETQ's get me;
Bound, so quits will reset me;
Bound, where I can forget my
        Top-level value.


              -- The Great Quux
                   (with apologies to
                      Paul Simon)

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Leavin' Fed'ral Express
Original : Leavin' on a Jet Plane
Group    : Peter, Paul and Mary
Author   : Nelson Bishop 
Intro    : 
Song     : 


Leavin' Fed'ral Express

(To the tune of Leavin' on a Jet Plane,  Peter, Paul and Mary)

All my disks are packed, no room for more,
You think you'll ship me out the door,
I hate to tell you I've got one more bug.
But the dawn is breakin' it's early morn.
The truck is waitin', he's blowin' his horn.
But you've got time for just one more compile.


Chorus:

So link me and debug me,
Try to write new code for me.
You've sold me now, you've got to let me go.
I'm leavin' Fed'ral Express.
Don't know how you could ship this mess.
Oh wait, it can't be time to go.

There's so many times I've let you down.
So any ancient bugs you've found.
I tell you now, you ain't seen a thing.
Every place I go there's bugs anew.
Every one they find reflects on you.
But think about the money that I'll bring.


(Chorus)

Now the time has come to ship me,
One more time, try to link me.
Then close your eyes, I'll be on my way.
Dream about the days to come,
When you don't rush to get things done,
About the time, I wont have to say,

(Chorus)


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Little PC
Original : Little Deuce Coupe
Group    : The Beach Boys
Author   : Nelson Bishop 
Intro    : There's that singing memory again.  Obviously this was written
           fairly early in the IBM PC days when hard disks were a big deal.
           The network card mentioned was a pretty early offering and never
           worked very well.
Song     : 


Little PC

(To the tune of: Little Deuce Coupe, The Beach Boys)

Well I'm not braggin' boys so don't put me down.
But I've got the fastest ROM boot in town.
When somethin' comes up you know I don't even try.
I just hit the return key an let her fly.
She's my little PC, you don't know what I've got.

Just a little PC with a monochrome.
But we tell the other guys take your Apples home.
She's got a printer port and a network board
And an 8087 on the motherboard.

She's my little PC, you don't know what I've got.

She's got an Alpha Byte card with a 232
And her memory sings like she's cryin' the blues.
And if that ain't enough to make you flip your lid,
There's one more thing; I've got a hard disk daddy.

When I bring her on line all I see is green,
Till I turn the brightness up and clear the screen.
I get bent out of shape and I start to fret,
When I have to boot again 'cause there's no reset.

She's my little PC, you don't know what I've got.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The Maven
Original : The Raven
Group    : E.A. Poe
Author   : The Dragon
Intro    : 
Song     : 

                          The Maven
 
Once upon a weekend weary, while I pondered, beat and bleary,
Over many a faintly printed hexadecimal dump of core --
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some Source user chatting, chatting of some Mavenlore.
"Just a power glitch," I muttered, "printing out an underscore --
                Just a glitch and nothing more."
                
Ah, distinctly I remember that old Teletype ASR,
And the paper tape dispenser left its chad upon the floor.
Eagerly I thought, "Tomorrow, maybe I will go and borrow
>From my friend an Apple micro -- micro with a monitor --
So that I can chat at leisure, and then throw away my paper --
                Lying all across the floor. 
And the repetitious tapping which had nearly caught me napping
Woke me -- and convinced me that it could not be an underscore;
Appearances can be deceiving, so I sat there, still believing;
"My terminal must be receiving more express mail from the Source --
That's it -- my terminal's receiving new express mail from the Source;
                Posted mail and nothing more."
 
But my curiosity grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
I stood up and crossed the room to see what waited there in store.
Sticking up from the terminal were three inches or so of paper;
Carefully my trembling hand tore off the scrap, and then I swore --
"What is this?", I cried in anger -- here I threw it to the floor;
                Blankness there and nothing more.
 
Deep into its workings peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
What could cause the thing to stutter, dropping twenty lines or more?
But the ribbon was unbroken, and the "HERE IS" gave no token,
I thought the Teletype was broken, so I typed the number "4"!
This I typed, and then the modem echoed back the number "4" --
                Merely this and nothing more.
 
Back then to my work returning, with my temper slowly burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is just another RESET message;
With my luck, there's probably expensive data to restore!" --
As it chattered, still I sat there, trying to complete my chore.
                "'Tis the Source and nothing more."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the dour and cryptic Maven now whose words I puzzled o'er;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the seat back's plastic lining that the lamp-light fluoresced o'er,
But whose flattened plastic lining with the lamp fluorescing o'er
                Shall compress, ah, little more!
 
All at once my thoughts grew clearer -- as if looking in a mirror,
Now at last I understood where I had sent the number 4!
"Look," I typed, "I was just testing -- did you think that I was jesting?
Why was it so interesting that I typed the number 4?
Did you think that you were chatting to some foolish sophomore?"
                Quoth the Maven, "... #4?"
 
"Maven!" said I, "Great defender! Venerable comprehender!
Whether you began this chat, or were a victim of error,
Mystified, and yet undaunted, by this quandary confronted," --
(Could my terminal be haunted?) -- "tell me truly, I implore --
Can you understand my message? -- tell me, tell me, I implore!"
                Quoth the Maven, "#4!"
 
"Maven!" said I, "Great pretender! Ancient Jewish moneylender!
By the Source that now connects us -- by the holy Oath you swore --
Tell me in your obscure wisdom if, within your distant modem,
You receive my words unbroken by backspace or underscore --
Tell me why my Teletype prints nothing but the number 4!"
                Quoth the Maven, "#4?"
 
"Be that word our sign of parting, bard or friend!" I typed, upstarting --
"Get back to your aimless chatter and obnoxious Mavenlore!
Leave no token of your intent -- send no messsage that you repent!
Leave my terminal quiescent! -- Quit the chat hereinbefore!
Type control-P (or escape), and quit this chat forevermore!"
                Quoth the Maven, "#4..."
 
And the Maven, notwithstanding, still is chatting, still is chatting
Over my misunderstanding of his cryptic "#4?";
And I calmly pull the cover and remove a certain lever
>From the 33ASR, which I never shall restore;
And a certain  ASCII number that lies broken on the floor
                Shall be printed -- nevermore!
 
(with no  apologies whatsoever to anyone)        ...the Dragon


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : My Favorite Hacks
Original : My Favorite Things
Group    : Rodgers and Hammerstein (?)
Author   : Guy L. Steele Jr.
Intro    : 
Song     : 

                My Favorite Hacks
           [to be sung to the tune of
                          My Favorite Things
            from The Sound of Music]


Circular MAPCAR and ANDCA'd negation,
Indirect JMP auto-incrementation,
Tangled spaghetti embroidered in stacks:
These are a few of my favorite hacks.

Mismatched DEFINE-TERMIN pairs with .QUOTEing,
Misbalanced brackets for macroed remoting,
PDP-6's with chess tourney plaques:
These are a few of my favorite hacks.

LAMBDAs as GO TOs and spooling on TPLs,
Flip-flops and bit drops and TRCE's in triples,
Crufty heuristics that prune minimax:
These are a few of my favorite hacks.

When the bugs strike,
When the disks crash,
When I read this verse,
I simply remember my favorite hacks
And then I feel even worse!

                -- The Great Quux
                     (with apologies to
                        Rodgers and Hammerstein)


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Mr. Bossman
Original : Mr. Sandman
Group    : ?
Author   : Nelson Bishop 
Intro    : this was written around release 2.5 of a product.  There weren't
           any particularly exciting enhancements, just a bunch of tweaking,
           snore.
           Any two syllable name will substitute for Bossman, as of course it
           did in the original (Hi Gary :-).  We never did get a plum either!
Song     : 

Mr. Bossman
(To the tune of: Mr. Sandman)

Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum 
Mr. Bossman, bring us a plum.
An expert system would be lots of fun.
How 'bout a new exciting project?
How 'bout some brand new source and object?

Mr. Bossman, how 'bout AI?
We'd like to do it, we'll give it a try.
Give us the word our work is no joke, Sir,
And tell that the big compiles are over.

Mr. Bossman, windows are nice.
We'd like to do them and play with some mice.
Pop-up menus would really be friendly,
And local networks are just oh so trendy.

Mr. Bossman (Yeees), take us off hold.
This boring maintenance has gotten so old.
So please bring back out happy hum.
Mr. Bossman give us, please, please, please,
Mr. Bossman give us a plum!
Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum!


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : My Data are Over the Ocean
Original : My bonnie is over the ocean
Group    : Traditional (?)
Author   : Young European Radio Astronomers
Intro    : Here the beginning of "My Data are Over the Ocean", created during
           lunch by participants of the Young European Radio Astronomers
           Conference in September 1989 at Kharkov, (then) USSR.
           This was inspired by a colleague, who couldn't read back in Europe
           the tape with observational data she had written at an Hawaiian
           observatory. The other parts of the song weren't related to
           computers.
Song     : 


(to the tune of "My bonnie is over the ocean")

My data are over the ocean,
and I cannot read them right here.
My data are over the ocean,
oh bring back my data to me.

(Chorus)
Bring back,
bring back,
oh bring back my data to me, to me!
Bring back,
bring back,
oh bring back my data to me!


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : My Favourite Things
Original : My Favourite Things
Group    : ? Traditional
Author   : Fred Curtis
Intro    : 
Song     : 

To be sung to the tune of "My Favourite Things"
written by Fred Curtis

	Pointers to pointers to printf()-like functions;
	Unary minus and nested conjunctions;
	Integers, booleans, characters, strings;
	These are a few of my favourite things.

	Bach on a CD and good indentation;
	Not getting mugged while en route to the station;
	Fountains with wishes and Gnomes without slings;
	These are a few of my favourite things.

	When the bug bites! When core dumps!
	When the machine's had the 
	I simply remember my favourite things
	And then I don't fell so sick.


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Please Release Me
Original : ?
Group    : ?
Author   : Nelson Bishop 
Intro    : 
Song     : 


Please Release Me

Please release me let me go,
My bugs aren't major anymore.
To waste your time would be a sin.
Release me, to Beta once again.

I have found a new bug here,
Too late to fix it now I fear,
You can't boot warm, but must boot cold.
Release me, the users never know.

Please release me can't you see,
You'd be a fool to cling to me.
That's not a bug, but feature, dear.
Release me, don't wait another year.


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Ode to Amy (or: The Frontend Shuffle)
Original : The Longest Time
Group    : Billy Joel
Author   : Nelson Bishop 
Intro    : This is the best in a long line of songs I wrote for departing
           coworkers.
Song     : 


Ode to Amy
or
The Frontend Shuffle

(To the tune of: The Longest Time, Billy Joel)

If you said the deadline was tonight,
There would still be functions left to write.
What else could I do?
I get the frontend from you.
And I'll be coding for the longest time.

Once I thought enhancements we all done.
Now I know the battle can't be won.
The boss will find me,
Give me work and then remind me.
That I'll be coding for the longest time.

I'm that voice you're hearing in the hall.
And we need a miracle that's all.
Because we need you.
And I know we'll want to see you.
'Cause we'll be coding for the longest time.

Maybe this wont last very long,
The new fix is right, but I could be wrong.
Maybe I've been coding too hard,
But I've come this far, and a bonus I hoped for.

Who knows how much further we'll go on.
Frontend will be broken when you're gone.
I'll take my chances,
I forgot this disk drive dances
And I'll be coding for the longest time.

I had second thoughts at the start.
I said to myself I hope that she's smart.
Now I know the woman that you are.
Your coding is bizarre,
But it's more that I hoped for.

I don't care what consequence it brings.
Kludge it and get on to other things.
This code is so bad.
I think you ought to know that
I intend to debug for the longest time.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : PLIate's Dream
Original : Pilate's Dream
Group    : from Jesus Christ Superstar
Author   : Guy L. Steele Jr.
Intro    : 
Song     : 

                 PLIate's Dream

           [to be sung to the tune of
                 Pilate's Dream
          from Jesus Christ Superstar]


I dreamed I was a brand new language,
The ultimate in speed;
I handled strings as fast as RPG,
And twice as easily.

I crunched numbers like COBOL,
Trees like APL,
And FORTRAN loaned its FORMATs and GO TOs,
The cause of many screws.

And then a man said, "Now we'll write a monitor,
With Multics what it's for.
Our project is begun;
We'll code in PL/I."

Then I saw thousands of coders
Searching for their bugs,
And then I heard them mentioning my name
And leaving me the blame.


                -- The Great Quux
                     (with apologies to
                        Rice and Webber)

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The Programmer's Blues
Original : (Blues)
Group    : Glenn Frye
Author   : 
Intro    : 
Song     : 


          THE PROGRAMMER'S BLUES - WITH APOLOGIES TO GLENN FRYE

          There's trouble in the data now, I can feel it in my bones,
          Had a premonition that I shouldn't program alone,
          Had the new Rev loaded but I didn't think it'd fry,
          Then everything exploded and 2 weeks work blew sky-high!

          So baby here's a printout and a keyboard in your hand,
          And here's a little floppy. Now, do it just the way he planned,
          You debug for 20 days and I'll pay you 20 grand!

          I'm sorry it went down like this, but some chip had to fuse.
          It's the typing of the language, it's the programmer's blues...

          Programmer's blues...

          Coder's and analyst's, hacker's and sysop's,
          The comments and strange bomboffs, and the bugs nobody copped,
          No matter if it's Pascal, Basic, or Cobol,
          You've got to carry manuals, there's no online help at all!

          It's lots of rotten coffee, and lots of dirty food,
          Every variable name is dangerous, it might have been pre-used,
          It's the lure of relaxed typing, it's so easy to be crude!

          Perhaps you'll understand it better, when you see my tools,
          It's the ultimate enhancement, it's the programmer's blues...

          Programmer's blues...

          You see it in the memos, you read them every day,
          They say you have to fix those bugs, but they don't go away.
          No matter how hard you work, it just won't run ok,
          You bury them in subroutines, but you know they are here to stay!
       
          You hope that none'll notice them, but they always seem to do,
          You beg for Beta-testing, maybe one will give a clue,
          Down from the office of your manager, you learn the heat's on you...
  
          Heat's on you...

          It's a losing proposition, but one you can't refuse,
          It's policies of debugging, it's the programmer's blues...

          Programmer's blues...


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Puff the Fractal Dragon
Original : Puff the Magic Dragon
Group    : ?
Author   : ?
Intro    : 
Song     : 


Puff the Fractal Dragon (to the tune of Puff the Magic Dragon)
--------------------------------------------------------------

No plain fanfold paper could hold that fractal Puff --
He grew so fast no plotting pack could shrink him far enough.
Compiles and simulations grew so quickly tame
And swapped out all their data space when Puff pushed his stack frame.
CHORUS:
      Puff the fractal dragon was written in C,
      And frolicked while processes switched in mainframe memory.
      Puff the fractal dragon was written in C,
      And frolicked while processes switched in mainframe memory.
Puff, he grew so quickly, while others moved like snails
And mini-Puffs would perch themselves on his gigantic tail.
All the student hackers loved that fractal Puff
But DCS did not like Puff, and finally said, "Enough!"
              (chorus)
Puff used more resources than DCS could spare.
The operator killed Puff's job -- he didn't seem to care.
A gloom fell on the hackers; it seemed to be the end,
But Puff trapped the exception, and grew from naught again!
              (chorus)


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Rawhide
Original : Rawhide
Group    : Blues Brothers
Author   : Michael Weber 
Intro    : 
Song     : 


(based on RAWHIDE from BluesBrothers)
-------------------------------------

Rolling, rolling, rolling,
When the screens are scrolling,
Keep the Mouses rolling - Rawhide

Cores and Shells and dither
Dust bin forever
Wishin` my disk was in my drive
All the things I`m missin`
Good Ops, Kills and Listings
Are waiting at the end of my file


Move `em on
Hit `em up
Move `em on
Rawhide

Cut `em out
Ride `em in
Cut `em out
Ride `em in
Rawhide


Keep hackin`, hackin`, hackin`
While Sysop isn`t checkin`
Keep other users crackin` - Rawhide

I don`t understand her
My program has an error
Soon I will turn that system off
My C-Shell isn`t workin`
The Admin catched me lurkin`
Lurkin` at the end of my file


Move `em on
Hit `em up
Move `em on
Rawhide

Cut `em out
Ride `em in
Cut `em out
Ride `em in
Rawhide


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : SIGHUP Blues
Original : Bluebottle Blues
Group    : Milligan and Carbone
Author   : Russell Street 
Intro    : Adapted from the "Bluebottle Blues"
           featuring Maurice Plonk and his Orchestra Fromage, with
           Nick Rauchen conducting "The Ball's Pond Road, near the One
           in Harmony".
           In reality written by Milligan and Carbone, recorded 24/05/56.
Song     : 


SIGHUP Blues
------------
By Russell Street (russells@ccu1.aukuni.ac.nz)




P:	PING 255.255.255.255! 
K:	Just the process I've been looking for.
P:	Oh!
K:	
	Clamber into my disk heads, Fred
	Whence all but you have exec'd, Fred
	There is no contesting,
	I've no way of manefesting
	How much I'd prefer you dead, Fred
P:	Oh I'm glad you like me, my Kernel
	Because I trust you to.
K:	Gratifiy your wim, Jim.
P:	Jim? What happened to Fred?
K:	He mv'd his name.
P:	What to?
K:	Chunky.
	Tell me, can you catch Jim?
P:	No, Jim can not catch.
K:	Then open this named pipe, son
	On the file system, son
	Which I have carefully arranged
		so it will open up and throw you
		into thirty K of NULLs
		when you upset the pipe by reading
		from it, Jim.
P:	I say, it's not for deading me, is it Kernel?
K:	Oh course not, dear boy! Just read from it a bit further!
P: 	Righty-ho then.  Ahh. Here I am on the edge of the nice
		little named-type pipe.  It is a lovely day for
		a naughty pipe.  
		
	YAHHH! You've swamped me.
	I do not like this game.
	
	
	I've got those "When I say I trust you I do not want to be KILLed
	because I do not like those kind of signals" Blues.
	I don't like naughty files that give my gets(3) binary data.
	(They say harm can come to a growing process like that)
	And I do not like SIGQUITs that longjmp me back to main()
	Out of my reniced batch queue
	I don't like being woken by nasty SIGALRM showers
	And I do not like being nutted by Eifel and Fortran programs
	So I do not want to be KILLed, HUPed, TERMed, QUITed, XCPUed
		INTed!
	I don't like that kind of type blues -- I don't like that
	I've got them SIGHUP Blues.
	
K: Still alive?
	Take this /dev/tty, pet.
P:	Oh tar(1).
K:	No, don't iocntl it yet, pet.
	 All right, now you can iocntl it.
P:	Are you sure I won't be KILLed or nothing, Kernel?
K:	 No, no -- don't be frightened!
P:	All right then, I'll just send a DUP to it,
	and .... < BOOOM>
	
	< over explosion >
	
	You rotten swine you!  You HUPed me again.
	I shan't play this rotten game no more.
	
	Closes open files, pages out memory
	And exists through little hole in Mail deamon security...
	
	


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Software for Nothing
Original : Money for Nothing
Group    : Dire Straits
Author   : Brent CJ Britton 
Intro    : 
Song     : 

                          Software for Nothing
                          ====================
                          by: Brent CJ Britton 
 
With appoligies to Mark Knopfler.
 
 
I waaaant my.. I waaaant my... I waaaant my C-R-T......
 
Now look at them hackers,
That's the way ya' do it.
Ya' play with mem'ry that you cannot see.
Now that ain't workin, that's the way ya do it.
Get your software for nothing and your chips for free.
 
Now that ain't workin, gotta CPU-it. 
Let me tell ya, them guys ain't dumb.
Maybe crash the system with your little finger,
Maybe crash the system with your thumb.
 
    We got to install micro-data-bases,
    Gotta make things run like a breeeeze.
    We gotta help these foreign students,
    We gotta help these mindless E.E.'s...
 
The little Hacker with the Pepsi and the Munchos: 
Yeah, buddy, don't like to SHARE...
The little Hacker got his own compiler, 
The little guy don't change his underwear.
 
    We got to install the latest debugger,
    Under budget, and optimiiiiiiized.
    We got to have more muddy-black coffee,
    We got a green glow in our eyyyyyyes...
 
I shoulda' learned to play with Pascal.
I shoulda' learned to program some.
Look at that drive, I'm gonna stick it on the channel,
Man, it's better than the old one...
 
And who's up there, what's that?  Beeping noises?
He's bangin on the keyboard like a chimpanze.
Oh that aint workin, that's the way ya do it,
Get your software for nothin', get your chips for free.


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Socket Man
Original : Rocket Man
Group    : Elton John
Author   : Wes Morgan 
Intro    : While attempting to thrash a socket-ridden BSD package to some
           semblance of System V-ism, the following ditty camne unbidden....
Song     : 

                      Socket Man
             

I got my source last night from FTP
Compiling up at 2 AM
And my system is screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaming
"Undefined" at me.....

I thumb through books, I use my 'man'
It does no good, you see
'Cause I'm on System Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive
And not BSD

Chorus:
And I think it's gonna take a lot of time
'Till named pipes bring me where I get to find
That BSD's not worth a pile of slime (oh no no noooooooo)
I'm a Socket Man.....

Socket Man....burning up the CPU for days
Socket Man....hacking through the SVID maze....

Verse 2:

I've tried so many things, they all have failed,
It's lonely in the lab
And noone elllllllllsssssssssee
Has a clue....

And all the techniques I don't understand
It's just a kludge to make it work...
A Socket Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan
Socket Man.....

Chorus:
And I think it's gonna take a lot of time 
'Till named pipes bring me where I get to find
That BSD's not worth a pile of slime (oh no no noooooooo)
I'm a Socket Man......

Socket Man.....Hacking through the piles and piles of C
Socket Man.....Building up a hate for BSD....




@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Song of the Certified Data Processor
Original : When I Was a Lad
Group    : Gilbert and Sullivan
Author   : Guy L. Steele Jr.
Intro    : 
Song     : 

    Song of the Certified Data Processor

           [to be sung to the tune of
                When I Was a Lad
              from H.M.S. Pinafore]


When I was a lad I served a term
As office boy to a computing firm.
I polished the handle of the big front door
And swept up all the card chips from the keypunch floor.
        He swept up all the card chips from the keypunch floor.
I swept that chad so carefullee
That now I am officially a CDP.
        He swept that chad so carefullee
        That now he is officially a CDP.

My office job was a heavy load,
So I went to night school and learned to code.
I was soon coding payroll in RPG
And compiled all my programs on a System/3.
        He compiled all his programs on a System/3.
I compiled my code so gay and free
That now I am officially a CDP.
        He compiled his code so gay and free
        That now he is officially a CDP.

I wrote efficient code each day,
But I missed the benefits of higher pay.
I asked for a raise, but my boss said, "See,
Youse ain't good enuf because youse ain't a CDP."
        "He ain't good enuf because he ain't a CDP."
So I vowed that someday I would see
Myself become officially a CDP.
        So he vowed that someday he would see
        Himself become officially a CDP.

For nineteen weeks I worked to cram
All the textbooks for the CDP exam.
Then I took the exam and was shocked to see
That the questions didn't seem to mean a thing to me.
        All the questions didn't seem to mean a thing to him.
So I wrote down some answers randomly,
But I gave up all my hopes to be a CDP.
        So he wrote down some answers randomly,
        But he gave up all his hopes to be a CDP.
Well, those random answers worked out fine;
They scored my results at the top of the line.
Now I am a consultant here,
And I make at least a hundred thousand bucks each year.
        And he makes at least a hundred thousand bucks each year.
But I only command such a salary
Because I am officially a CDP.
        But he only commands such a salary
        Because he is officially a CDP.

Now, office boys, whoever you may be,
If you want to rise to the top of the tree,
Just go and take the CDP exam,
And no matter what you answer they won't give a D--n!
        And no matter what you answer they won't give a D--n!
Just answer it all as random as you please
And you will all officially be CDPs.
        Just answer it all as random as you please
        And you will all officially be CDPs.


                      -- The Great Quux
                           (with apologies to
                              Gilbert and Sullivan)

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The Sound of FORTRAN
Original : The Sound of Music
Group    : Rodgers and Hammerstein
Author   : Guy L. Steele Jr.
Intro    : 
Song     : 

              The Sound of FORTRAN

           [to be sung to the tune of
               The Sound of Music]


My programming day has come to an end, I know,
But one minor bug still restrains me, though,
So back to me desk I stumble,
More coffee I pour in my mug,
So back to me desk I stumble,
More coffee I pour in my mug,
And I drink, and I think, and I program
Just one more hack, just one more hairy kludge
To remove that bug.

Machines are alive with the sound of FORTRAN,
With numbers they've crunched for a thousand hours;
They add and subtract to the sound of FORTRAN,
And raise fractions to unheard of powers.

My code's full of REAL statements, INTEGER and COMPLEX too,
        duplicated thrice oe'r,
And so intermixed with the WRITEs and READs
        to cause errors galore;
Arrays are declared of dimension six, but indexed minus two;
Computed GO TOs are last in the range of a DO!

I now recompile my corrected programs;
I know I will get what compiled before --
My code will be blessed with the sound of FORTRAN,
And I'll lose once more.

And I'll lose once more.


                -- The Great Quux
                     (with apologies to
                        Rodgers and Hammerstein)

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The Sounds of Silence
Original : The Sound of Silence
Group    : Simon & Garfunkel
Author   : ?
Intro    : 
Song     : 


THE SOUNDS OF SCIENCE

Hello lab work my old foe
I've come to feel my anger grow
I have to find your composition
Using your spectograph emission
But I can't, and I'm on my seventh try
I start to cry
These are the sounds of science

My test tube shatters with a pop
The gunk eats through the tabletop
Through all the science labs in Thimann
You can hear the students screamin'
And my own voice rises up above the rest
I'm so depressed
These are the sounds of science

The tabletop begins to smoke
The students all begin to choke
The TA hurries to my station
And then dies of asphyxiation
And I whine "I'm having trouble with this class
I hope I pass."
These are the sounds of science

The deadly smoke goes through the halls
And peels the paint right off the walls
And then I note with aggravation
This means a bad evaluation
And I breathe a long and melancholy sigh
And then I die
These are the sounds of science


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The Star Wars Song
Original : Lola
Group    : The Kinks
Author   : Axel Eble 
Intro    : 
Song     : 


The Star Wars Song
	(sung to the tune of Lola, by the Kinks)


I met him in a swamp down in Dagobah,
where it bubbles all the time lika a giant cabinet soda,
S-O-D-A, Soda

I saw the little runt sitting there on a log,
I asked him his name and in a raspy voice he said Yoda,
Y-O-D-A, Yoda, Yo-Yo-Yo-Yo-Yoda

Well I've been around but I ain't never seen
a guy who looks like a Muppet but he's wrinkled and green,
Oh my Yoda, Yo-Yo-Yo-Yo-Yoda

Well I'm not dumb but I can't understand
how he can raise me in the air just by raising his hand,
Oh my Yoda, Yo-Yo-Yo-Yo-Yoda


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Structured Programmer's Soliloquy
Original : Hamlet's Soliloquy
Group    : Shakespeare
Author   : Henry Kleine and Philip H. Roberts
Intro    : 
Song     : 

     Structured Programmer's Soliloquy

SP or not SP -- that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The rules and exceptions of outrageous FORTRAN
Or to take arms against a sea of transfers
And by structuring end them.  To code -- to test
No more; and by a test to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural mistakes
That FORTRAN is heir to.  'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd.  To code -- to test.
To test -- perchance to bomb:  aye, there's the rub!
For in that test of code what bugs may come
When we have shuffled of this FORTRAN code,
Must give us pause.  There's the respect
that makes calamity of so long lists.			[??]
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time-sharing
Th' operating systems wrong, the computer's crash,
The pangs of despis'd code, the turnaround's delay,
The insolence of compilers, and the spurns
That patient coding of FORTRAN takes
When he himself might his quietus make
with PL/I?  Who would this FORTRAN Bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary language,
But that the dread of something after FORTRAN
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourne
No programmer returns -- puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn away
And lose the name of action.

	- Henry Kleine and Philip H. Roberts
	 April DATAMATION

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The Swapper
Original : The Seeker
Group    : The Who
Author   : Jamie Mason 
Intro    : Since I posted 'Unix Wizard', I thought up another Unix-specific
           song inspired by The Who...
Song     : 


The Swapper 	(Concocted by Jamie Mason to 'The Seeker' by The Who)
-----------

I've looked in kernel memory,
I've looked in the tables.
I try to find some core
For fifty million pages.
They call me the swapper.
I've been searching low and high.
Unix won't run out of memory
Till the day I die.

I asked Dennis Ritchie,
I asked Ken Thompson.
I asked comp.unix.wizards,
But they couldn't help me either.
They call me the swapper.
I've been searching low and high.
Unix won't run out of memory
Till the day I die.

People tend to hate me,
Cause I swap too slow.
As I page out their jobs
They want to shake my hand.
Focusing on swap space,
Investigating pagefaults,
I'm a pagedaemon,
I'm a very desperate hack.

Unix won't run out of memory
Till the day I die.

I learned how to raise resident set size.
Yeah, but look at this process it's mem'ry bound!
I'm happy when you segfault,
and when you run thrash.c I crash.
I get values but I
Don't know how or why!

I'm looking for core,
You're looking for CPU,
We're running on the same box,
And we don't know what to do!
They call me the swapper.
I've been searching low and high.
Unix won't run out of memory
Till the day I die.


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Take me Down to the SunLab
Original : Take me down to the river (?)
Group    : ?
Author   : ?
Intro    : 
Song     : 


   TAKE ME DOWN TO THE SUN LAB  

Take me down to the Sun lab
Take me down to 210
We'll edit our programs and scratch our heads
Never mind that I'd rather be dead
And we'll root, root, root through the listing
Looking for dollar star 'name'
And it's one, two, three downloads in the old Sun lab game!

Take me down to the Sun lab
Take me down to 210
We'll run the assembler and have a snack
I don't care if it never comes back 
And we'll wait, wait, wait for the download
If it don't work it's a shame
And it's one, two, three downloads in the old Sun lab game!

Take me down to the Sun lab
Take me down to 210
We'll program our I/O and interrupts
Sometimes it just makes me want to throw up
And we'll press, press, press on the reset
Each time it goes up in flames
And it's one, two, three downloads in the old Sun lab game!


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Tap My Wire
Original : Light my Fire
Group    : The Doors
Author   : Maarten Loss <90406025@hse.nl>
Intro    : In addition to the neverending flow of hack-n-roll songs,
           I decided to post this one. It's based on the all time
           Doors-hit "Light my fire".
Song     : 


Tap my wire                  (the more's)
~~~~~~~~~~

You know that I would be untrue
You know that I would be a 'foo'
If I was to say to you
We couldn't hack ourselves to root

Come on hackers tap a wire
Come on hackers tap a wire
Try to set the mode-bits higher

The time to sit and watch is gone
No time to linger in the shell
Try to make crack-programs run
Yes we will make the tty's bell

Come on hackers tap a wire
Come on hackers tap a wire
Try to set the mode-bits higher


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : That was the HASP my friend
Original : Those were the days my friend
Group    : ?
Author   : ? (Another Cambrigde product)
Intro    : 
Song     : 

Once upon a time there was a system
Which read and spooled and ran the printers too.
Remember how we coded up the changes,
And dreamed of all the great things we could do.

    That was the HASP my friend,
    There's no use to pretend,
    We sang and danced and coded the night away.
    We'd make the mods we choose,
    We'd fight and never lose,
    For we had HASP and it would lead the way.
    Tra-la la-LA la-la,
    Tra-la la-LA la-la,
    We had the HASP and it would lead the way.

Then the busy years went rushing by us,
HASP went version two to version three.
The features and enhancements kept on coming,
>From execution batch to R-J-E.

    That was the HASP my friend ...

Soon the days on VS were upon us,
The future role of HASP was now in doubt.
But version four of HASP was soon to follow,
And show what virtual spooling's all about.

    Yet today there looms another system,
    It's more complex and difficult to grasp.
    We look at M-V-S and ask the question,
    Is that JES2 system really HASP?
    It's really HASP my friend:
    There's no use to pretend.
    We'll sing and dance and code the night away.
    We'll make the mods we choose,
    We'll fight and never lose,
    For we have HASP and it will lead the way.
    Tra-la la-LA la-la,
    Tra-la la-LA la-la,
    We still have HASP and it will lead the way.


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The 12 computerised days of Xmas
Original : The 12 days of Xmas
Group    : Traditional
Author   : (Byte 1981?)
Intro    : 
Song     : 

On the Twelfth day of Christmas ,
my computer gave to me

Twelve blown-out circuits
Eleven damaged diskettes
Ten disk-drive lockouts
Nine burnt-out fuses
Eight worthless printouts
Seven system resets
Six I/O spasms
Five Blank Cassettes
Four garbled SAVEs
Three loose plugs
Two keyboard bounces
And a glitch on the video screen


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : These are are a Few of Our Favorite Machines
Original : These are a Few of My Favorite Things
Group    : Traditional
Author   : Nelson Bishop 
Intro    : This song was written about the time the Mac was first introduced.
           Most of the machines mentioned were some sort of IBM PC semi-
           compatible. We generally managed to port to them in time for them
           to be withdrawn from the market. The memory singing refers to an
           Alpha Byte memory expansion board which had an audible high pitched
           whine.
Song     : 


These are are a Few of Our Favorite Machines

(To the tune of "These are a Few of My Favorite Things")

Compaqs and Lisas and hard disks with tape drives,
Sperrys and Victors and Wangs with no disk drives.
Gray IBMs with the mem'ry that sings,
These are a few of our favorite machines.

TIs and Rainbows and Dots with no futures
Trendspotter's dead, but it draws pretty pictures.
HP-150s you touch on the screens,
These are a few of out favorite machines.

Chorus:
When the bits byte, when the bugs sting,
When out code is bad,
We simply remember our favorite machines,
And then we know we've -- been had
Mainframes and micros and minis with Unix,
Networks and async and mice with some new tricks.
We get the Journal and read everything,
So we'll know which is our favorite machine.

Bright Macintoshes to purchase on credit,
We can't afford it this year so forget it.
Boss, we all need a big raise as you've seen,
So we can purchase our favorite machines.

Chorus


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Treekiller
Original : Painkiller
Group    : Judas Priest
Author   : Bri Bri 
Intro    : well, i was cleaning up my directory, and i found this thing, which
           i sorta wrote this summer. anyway, here it is, dedicated to one of
           my "favorite" users of the printer.
Song     : 

  
He is the Treekiller
This is the Treekiller
  
Faster than ethernet
Bigger than /usr/dict/words
Found in /etc/printers
Much worse than a thousand nerds
  
Wielding high the chainsaw
Defend us, true and brave
Why you would never know
Those trees might come back from the grave
  
With the Amazon in ruins
Never again to rise
You know deep inside we'll all end up fried
  
He is the Treekiller
This is the Treekiller
Files of megs Treekiller
No toner left, Treekiller


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : UNIBUS
Original : Omnibus
Group    : Flanders and Swann
Author   : Tony Duell  
Intro    : 
Song     : 

Some choose an Atari,
Some prefer a smart HP,
Or for a Tandy TRS-80,
They'd lay them doon and dee.
Such means of computation,
seem rather dull to us
The processor and the arbitor
Of the PDP UNIBUS


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : UNIX
Original : Money
Group    : Pink Floyd
Author   : Jim Flanagan 
Intro    : In the spirit of the UNIX rock adaptations, I drag this out.
Song     : 


UNIX*	[To the tune of _Money_ by Pink Floyd]
----

UNIX, it's a gas;
grab that VAX with
both hands and
make it crash.

UNIX, it's a hit;
Don't give me that
PC DOS Bullshit.

I'm into well benchmarked
POSIX Open Systems
I think I need a RISC chip.

UNIX, jmp back;
I'm all niced now
pop your frame off of
my stack.

---
*UNIX is a trademark of AT&T


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Unix Man
Original : Nowhere Man
Group    : Beatles
Author   : Brad Morrison 
Intro    : 
Song     : 


	UNIX Man 	(to The Beatles' "Nowhere Man")
	--------

	He's a real UNIX Man
	Sitting in his UNIX LAN
	Making all his UNIX .plans
	For nobody

	Knows the blocksize from 'du'
	Cares not where /dev/null goes to
	Isn't he a bit like you
	And me?

	UNIX Man, don't worry
	It's the tube that's blurry
	UNIX Man
	The new kernel boots, just like you had planned

	He's as wise as he can be
	Programs in lex, yacc and C
	UNIX Man, can you help me
	At all?

	UNIX Man, please listen
	My printout is missin'
	UNIX Man
	The wo-o-o-orld is your 'at' command

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Unix Wizard
Original : Pinball Wizard
Group    : The Who
Author   : Jamie Mason 
           Additions by Wayne Throop <...!mcnc!aurgate!throop>
Intro    : I also found this thing which I sorta wrote this summer.  This is
           dedicated to all those weary Unix hacks who spend their entire
           waking lives stuffing /dev/tty??'s clist so that processes have
           something to read.  :-)
           [JM]
           It seems to me this can be improved quite a bit, to make it scan
           better with the score, and such.  "I have a modest example here."
           [WT]
Song     : 


   Unix Wizard

Ever since I heard of Unix
I've always had a ball,
>From SunOS to Minix
I must have run 'em all
But I ain't seen nothing like him
On systems large or small
That tired, squinting, blind kid
Sure makes a mean sys call!

He sits like a statue,
Becomes part of the machine,
Feeling all the limits,
Knows what the signals mean
Hacks by intuition
His process never stalls,
That tired, squinting blind kid
Sure makes a mean sys call!

He a Unix Wizard,
I just can't get the gist
A Unix wizard's 
Got such a mental twist

How do you think he does it?
I don't know!
What makes him so good?

Ain't got no distractions
Don't hear no beeps or bells
Don't see no lights a flashin'
Ignores his sense of smell
Patches running kernels
Dumps no core at all,
That tired, squinting and blind kid
Sure makes a mean sys call!

I thought I was
The process table king,
But I just handed
My root password to him.

Even on my favorite boxen,
His hacks can beat my best.
The network leads him in,
And he just does the rest.
He's got crazy Finger servers
Never will seg-fault...
That tired, squinting blind kid
Sure makes a mean sys call!


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : VAX Raphosdy
Original : Bohemian Rhapsody
Group    : Queen
Author   : Russell Street 
Intro    : 
Song     : 

VAX Raphosdy
------------
Is this the real login:?
Is it a trap?
Caught on a terminal
No escape from the committee


Open your mail
Look up to the skies
And see...

I'm just a poor hacker,
I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go
Little high, little low

Hit me where the wind blows,
Doesn't really matter to me, to me



Momma, just killed a VAX
Type a command into the shell,
Hit RETURN, now it's dead
Momma, my account had just begun
And now I've gone and thrown it all away
Momma, didn't mean to make you crash
If I'm not back on this time tomorrow
Hack on, hack on as if nothing really matters


Too late -- my time has come
Sent shivers down my spine
Bodies aching all the time
Goodbye everybody, I've got to go
Got to leave you all behind and face the truth

Momma, (every way the wind blows)
I don't wanna kicked off,
I sometimes wish I'd never logged on at all

...


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Waiting for The Sun
Original : Waiting for The Sun
Group    : The Doors
Author   : Jamie Mason 
Intro    : This one is dedicated to all you folks who have inadequate, slow
           computing facilties.  (We don't! We just got an upgrade!  :-)
Song     : 


Waiting for the Sun   (by Jamie Mason, to the Doors tune of the same name)
-------------------

At first flash of daylight,
We're still hacking in C.
Sitting there
Bashing one last Bug

Waiting for the Sun,
Waiting for the Sun,
Waiting for the Sun.

Can't you feel it,
Now that work is due,
That it's time to
Fight for some CPU

Waiting for the Sun,
Waiting for the Sun,
Waiting for the Sun.

Waiting   for   the   Sun.

Waiting...   Waiting...   Waiting...   Waiting...
Waiting...   Waiting...   Waiting...   Waiting...

Waiting for Make is
Such a bore.
Waiting for a.out to
Stop dumping core...
Waiting for some cycles
All day long.
Waiting for adb to tell me what went wrong.

This is the strangest
Bug I've ever   known.

Can't you feel it,
Now that work is due,
That it's time to fight
For some CPU

Waiting for the Sun,
Waiting for the Sun,
Waiting for the Sun.

Waiting   for   the   Sun.


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The Wall 2
Original : The Wall
Group    : Pink Floyd
Author   : Nathan Torkington 
Intro    : 
Song     : 


"Another User in the Wall Part 1"

Root has flown across the ocean
Leaving just a memory
Coredumps from /bin ls
Root, what else did you leave for me?
Root, what'd'ja leave behind for me?!
All in all, you were just a pain in the ass,
All in all, we are all just pains in the ass.


"Another Brick in the Wall part 2"

{\lead}
We don't need no pull-down-menus
We don't need no rescaled fonts
No dark icons in the corner
Hackers, leave those Macs alone.
Hey! Hackers! Leave them Macs alone!
All in all it's just another WIMP up for sale
All in all you're just another WIMP up for the sale.

{\kids}
We don't need no fancy windows
We don't need no title bars
No MultiFinder in the startup
Hackers leave them Macs alone
Hey! Hackers! Leave them Macs alone!
All in all it's just another WIMP up for sale
All in all you're just another WIMP up for sale.

{\guitar}

"Another Brick In the Wall Part 3"

I don't need no mice around me
And I don't need no fonts to calm me.
I have seen the writing on the wall.
Don't think I need any WIMP at all.
No!  Don't think I need any WIMP at all.
No!  Don't think I'll need any WIMP at all.
All in all it was all just bricks in the wall.
All in all you were all just bricks in the wall.


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : What is a Hacker?
Original : What is a DJ?
Group    : Spike Jones
Author   : Russell Street 
Intro    : [longish - sth]
Sometime ago I recorded from a radio programme a Spike Jones
recording "What is a DJ?".  I think it was recorded in the
50's -- it includes a reference to televison advertising stealing
>from radio.
It has only recently occured to me that it is perfect for
adapting to describe the "hacker".  Above is my first
attempt to do this, along with the original (below)
Unfortunately I can not find out who actually wrote it or when.
The only information that the announcer gave was that it was
a Spike Jones recording, and it was only released once.

I have only changed the words to suit computer ideas,
keeping with the original flow, patterns and concepts.
Any suggestions this could improve this are welcomed.


The original recording has some organ music that flows with
and emphasis the way it is read.  It is difficult to reproduce
this in text.  Most of this is to do with the speed at which
it is spoken.


The original:


What is a DJ?
-------------

Between the commercialism of the sponsor, and the innocence
of the radio audience we find a delightful creature called
the Disc Jockey.

Disc Jockeys come in assorted sizes, weights and colours. But
all disc Jockeys have the same creed: to fill every minute of
every hour of every day with records and commercials. And to
protest with noise, their only weapon, when the last programme
has finished and the radio sponsor switches his interest to
television.

Disc Jockeys are found everywhere -- radio stations, golf courses,
advertising agencies, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging
from, running away to, on top of **OLD SMOKY**.

Mothers ignore them, little girls don't understand them, 
older sisters tolerate them, adults HA!  Heaven and the 
advertising agencies protect them.

A disc jockey is truth with a script in his hand, beauty with
a bloodshot voice, wisdom with a cut of the profits, and the
hope of the sponsor with a frog in his throat.

When you are busy a disc jockey is a inconsiderate, bothersome,
intruding jangle of noise.  When you want him to play a beautiful
melodic record his brain turns to jelly. Or else he becomes
a savage sadistic jungle creature bent on destroying his Hooper
rating and himself with a brass band playing into an echo chamber.

A disc jockey is a composite.  He has the brain of an adding
machine, the ulcers of a banker, the persistency of an
auctioneer, the diction of a train announcer, the subtlety of
a meat cleaver, and when he has to put a record on the turn-table
by himself he has five thumbs on each hand! 

He likes free albums, swimming pools, Dixieland records,
cadallics, money, sponsors (in their natural habitat), free passes
and the girl-across-the-street.

He is not much for music, song sloggers, other disc Jockeys,
the sales department, engineers, and the girl-across-the-street's
husband.

Nobody else is so early to rise or to late to supper.
Nobody else gets so much fun out of old joke books, loud records,
fan mail and females.  Nobody else can cram into one half hour
so many commercials about soap, falling hair, toothpaste, 
deodorant, non-skid tyres and a large chunk of unknown substance.

A disc jockey is a magical creature. You can turn him off your
radio but you can't turn him off your neighbour's radio.  You
can get him out of your mind, but you can't get him out of the
air.  He's a bleary-eyed, syrup-voiced, fast-talking, bundle
of noise.

But, when you wake up in the morning with only the shattered
pieces of your sleep and dreams he can make you wish you'd never
been born with the two magic words:

                           GOOD MORNING!

Song     : 

What is a Hacker? (version 1.01)
-----------------

Adapted by Russell Street (russells@ccu1.aukuni.ac.nz)


Between the commericalism of the MSIS department, and the
innocence of the Real User we find a delightful creature
called the Computer Hacker.

Hackers come in assorted sizes, weights and colours. But
all hackers have the same creed: to fill every byte of
every disk of every machine with source code and old news.
And to protest with flames, their only weapon, when the last
process is KILLed and the computer centre switches to a
"better" computer.

Hackers are found everywhere -- univerities, colleges,
corporations, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging
from, running away to, on top of **VAXen**.

Management ignores them, secretaries don't understand them, 
Customer Support tolerate them, administrators HA!  Heaven
and the greatful user protect them.

A hacker is intelligence with a head ache, elegance with
a core dump, daring with a secure backup, and the hope of
the admin with the root password.

When you are busy a hacker is a inconsiderate, bothersome,
intruding, resource hogging process.  When you want him to
solve your problem his brain turns to jelly. Or else he
becomes a savage sadistic jungle creature bent on destroying
his reputation and your data with a misplaced 'rm -r'.

A hacker is a composite.  He has the brain of a adding 
machine, the stealth of a thief, the percistancy of a tiger,
the resourcefulness of cracker, the subtetly of a meat cleaver.
And when he has to put a tape in a drive by himself he has
five thumbs on each hand! 

He likes USENET access, e-mail, source code, nethack, money,
admins (in their natural habitat), free accounts and the
new-girl-in-the-operator's-room.

He is not much for paper work, code grinders, other hackers
on his machine, the MSIS department, dummy money, and the
new-girl-in-the-operator's-room's husband.

Nobody else is so late to rise or to late to supper.
Nobody else gets so much fun out of old news files, loud
records, junk food and females.  Nobody else can cram into
one half hour so many requests for restores, bulk chowning,
increased disk space, more processer time, faster CPUs and
a large chunk of unknown substance.

A hacker is a magical creature. You can kick him off your
terminal but you can't kick him off your neighbour's terminal.
You can get him out of your mind, but you can't get him out of the
batch queue.  He's a bleary-eyed, syrup-voiced, fast-talking, bundle
of keystrokes.

But, when you are editing, with only the shattered pieces of working
code backed up, he can make you wish you'd saved sooner with the two
magic words:

                           SYSTEM CRASH!

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : When I was a lad
Original : When I was a Lad
Group    : Gilbert and Sullivan
Author   : Tony Duell  
Intro    : 
Song     : 

 When I was a lad I served a term
 As office boy in a computer firm.
 I cleared the bugs out, and I got to grips
 With polishing the silicon on all their chips.
 [With polishing the silicon on all their chips.]
 I polished up that silicon so carefully
 That now I am responsible for Phoenix 3.
 [He polished up that silicon so carefully
 That now he is responsible for Phoenix 3.]

 At cleaning chips I made such a name
 That a drinks pro-grammer I soon became:
 I mixed soup, cola and some fizzy tea,
 And when the program ran it cost 8p.
 [And when...]
 The users so enjoyed this Most Vile Tea
 That now I am responsible for Phoenix 3.
 [The users...]

 At making drinks I acquired such a knack
 That at operatorship I had a crack:
 I did the crossword, read about foot-ball
 And never tried unloading Printer 3 at all.
 [And never...]
 I tore off output sheets so carelessly
 That now I am responsible for Phoenix 3.
 [He tore...]

 The users often saw me every day,
 So I took on the job of a P.A.
 I told the beginners of GCAL and ZED,
 Or phoned up experts for their views instead.
 [Or phoned...]
 I passed the buck along so frequently
 That now I am responsible for Phoenix 3.
 [He passed...]

 I worked so hard that I required a rest,
 And so they got me dealing with SUGGEST:
 I took three months off, turned the users sour
 By claiming that I was a shortage of manpower.
 [By claiming...]
 I took a year off, did the C.S.T.
 To learn enough to work on Phoenix 3.
 [He took...]

 At user-friendliness I'd made such a mess,
 They got me working hard on MVS:
 I made commands obscure and twice as long,
 And changed the syntax so most jobs went wrong.
 [And changed...]
 I made such trouble they upgraded me
 By making me responsible for Phoenix 3.
 [He made...]

 Now hackers all, whoever you may be,
 If you want to do things faster than Queue D,
 If your eyes are forever glued to VDUs,
 Then leave the rat race and its four job queues:
 [Then leave...]
 Keep clear of machines, IBM or BBC,
 And you may get the blame for parts of Phoenix 3!
 [Keep clear...]


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : When you try to get work from the data network
Original : ?
Group    : Gilbert & Sullivan
Author   : ? (First seen at Cambridge, England)
Intro    : 
Song     : 

 When you try to get work from the Data Net-work, and you're
tapping the keys with impatience,
 It will say it's congested, your code stays untested, all users
are waiting for sessions.
 For with C.I.P. errors and similar terrors the C.U.D.N. tries to
thwart you
 And you hit RETURN thrice and ask friends for advice - for again
the new system has caught you,
 As your password is typed out before it is wiped out (by hitting
the button marked CLEAR SCREEN),
 And you hit CONTROL/P C and try to get busy at trying to conquer
the machine!
 Then the system expires and you pull out the wires and you find
that the VDU's broken,
 Get another one near, then walk out with a jeer for by now it
won't let any folk on!
 Well at last it permits you to log on and hits you, you join all
the users in weeping,
 For your session's such pain, and there's so little gain that
you'd very much better be sleeping!

 For you find your UPDATEing a file, and you're waiting five
minutes for ZED to acknowledge,
 While the user next door throws a fit on the floor and runs
screaming back home to his college;
 And you're typing ahead as you're waiting for ZED, then refile
to a file that is GUARDed,
 But forgot to say YES and you're now in a mess, as you think the
result's been discarded;
 Then you try to use RUN and it's really no fun, for the
scheduler's not very clever,
 And you're job's in queue D and you really can't see if it's
likely to run now, or ever.
 Well you try once again and it runs right as rain, so you have a
quick look with COLLECTREAD:
 The results of your look - "Standard Fixup" was took - IBM's
guess not what you expect/need!

 Fortran IV you reject, as you're program's all wrecked, so you
dump all your files TLS-wise,
 But the filename's too long, ARCHIVE always goes wrong, and
you're finding it's too much now, stress-wise!
 So at INFO.NEW you look, feeling quite blue, and you find that
the CS has faltered:
 All the keywords changed round, and you don't like the sound for
the language is terribly altered:
 For it's IBM-ese, wasn't written to please, though amuses the
people who wrote it,
 Each command a long word, of the like never heard, some
anomalies that you've just noted.
 From your work you now rest, see INFO.SUGGEST, which no-body has
looked at for ages,
 So you try SUGGEST-FILE, and ironically smile, which is better
than yielding to rages!
 Now with PRINTOUT you fail, it is lost in the mail, and your
hair you are frantically tearing,
 POST and ROUTE get ignored, once again you've been floored! You
log off with a shudder despairing...

 You are worn out and tired, feel the chief should be fired,
 For he won't sympathise, to use PHX never tries,
 And you're angry and cross, with the time that is loss,
 With a pain in you brain, swear "no more!" (all in vain!)
 For your session's a waste, never more should be faced,
 And you're nerves are all frayed, and your output's mislayed,
 You can't fix it today, the adviser's away,
 And you haven't been lying in clover:

 But the session is past, and it's teatime at last,
 And the torment's been long, ditto ditto my song,
 And thank goodness they're both of them over!


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : The Worm before Christmas
Original : ?
Group    : ?
Author   : Received in a mailfile on Cornell's computer network.
           (Copied from m-net, Ann Arbor, MI)
Intro    : 
Song     : 

THE WORM BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Twas the night before finals and all through the lab
Not a student was sleeping, not even McNabb.
Their projects were finished, completed with care
In hopes that the grades would be easy (and fair).

The students were wired with caffeine in their veins
While visions of quals nearly drove them insane.
With piles of books and a brand-new highlighter,
I had just settled down for another all-nighter --

When out from our gateways arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter
Away to the console I flew like a flash
And logged on as root to fend off a crash

The windows displayed on my brand new Sun-3
Gave oodles of info -- some in 3-D.
When, what to my burning red eyes should appear
But dozens of "nobody" jobs. Oh dear!

With a blitzkrieg invasion, so virulent and firm,
I knew in a moment. It was Morris's Worm!
More rapid than eagles his processes came
And they forked and exec'd and they copied by name!

"Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On Comet! On Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!
To the sites in .rhosts and host.eqi
Now, dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

[ Note: the machines dasher.cs.uiuc.edu, dancer.cs.uiuc.edu,
  prancer.cs.uiuc.edu, etc., have been renamed deer1, deer2,
  deer3, etc., so as not to confuse the already burdened
  students who use those machines. We regret that this poem
  reflects the older naming scheme and hope it does not
  confuse the network administrator at your site. -Ed. ]

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the phone,
The complaints of the users (thought I was alone!)
"The load is too high!" "I can't read my files!"
"I can't send my mail over miles and miles!"

I unplugged the net, and was turning around,
When the worm-ridden system went down with a bound.
I frettedI fritteredI sweatedI wept.
Then finally I core dumped the worm in /tmp.

It was smart and pervasive, a right jolly old stealth,
And I laughed when I saw it, in spite of myself.
A look at the dump of that invasive thread
Soon gave me to know we had nothing to dread.

The next day was slow with no network connections
For we wanted no more of those pesky infections.
But in spite of the news and the noise and the clatter
Soon all became normal, as if naught were the matter.

Then later that month, while all were away,
A virus came calling, and then went away.
The system then told us, when we logged in one night:
"Happy Christmas to all! (You guys aren't so bright.)"


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Title    : Write in C
Original : Let it Be
Group    : Beatles
Author   : 
Intro    : 
Song     : 


Write in C


When I find my code in tons of trouble,
Friends and colleagues come to me,
Speaking words of wisdom:
"Write in C."

As the deadline fast approaches,
And bugs are all that I can see,
Somewhere, someone whispers:
"Write in C."

Write in C, Write in C,
Write in C, oh, Write in C.
LOGO's dead and buried,
Write in C.

I used to write a lot of FORTRAN,
For science it worked flawlessly.
Try using it for graphics!
Write in C.

If you've just spent nearly 30 hours
Debugging some assembly,
Soon you will be glad to
Write in C.

Write in C, Write in C,
Write in C, yeah, Write in C.
Only wimps use BASIC.
Write in C.

Write in C, Write in C
Write in C, oh, Write in C.
Pascal won't quite cut it.
Write in C.

Write in C, Write in C,
Write in C, yeah, Write in C.
Don't even mention COBOL.
Write in C.

(and what about C++ ?)
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Walk without rhythm and you won't attract the worm.
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alexsiodhe, christopher north-keys, christopher alex north-keys