(Computer Style)
by Clement Clarke Moore
with revisions by William H. Rose, III
(December 1, 1996)
not a peripheral was stirring, not even the mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that new software soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of the Internet danced in their heads.
And Mama in her rollers, and I with a nightcap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.
When out on the Net there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the monitor I flew like a flash,
opened the menu, and threw away hard earned cash.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but an Internet website and eight links far and near.
With a hardware driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must do the trick.
More rapid than eagles, the errors they came,
my webserver problems no longer a pain?
Now Egghead! Now Best Buy!
Now, Shop-ko and K-Mart!
On Daltons! On Waldens!
On, Kohls and on Wal-Mart!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now spend your cash! Spend your cash!
Spend your cash all!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
but up to my hard-drive the problems they flew,
with a disk full of errors and CD-Roms, too!
And then in a twinkling, I heard a wave file.
with a beep and a buzz I knew I'd be waiting awhile!
As I rolled up my eyes and was turning around,
a virtual St. Nicholas appeared with a bound.
Electronically dressed in fur, from head to foot,
his clothes were all tarnished with virtual ashes and soot.
A bundle of software he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a salesman just opening his pack.
His VGA eyes twinkled! His paintbrush dimples merry!
His pantone cheeks were like roses, his nose a cherry!
His downloaded mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and his bitmap beard was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and virtual smoke encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a GUI face and a round little belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was drafted in graphics, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and fixed all my fatal errors, then turned with a jerk.
And laying a finger aside of his face,
and giving a nod, to the hard-drive he raced.
He into the mist of hidden files obsessed,
disappeared until next year his function keys pressed.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he blinked out of sight,
Happy Christmas to all, and a web site good night!
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