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Poems

'Twas the night before implementation and all through the house
Not a program was working, not even a browse.
The programmers hung by their tubes in despair,
With hopes that a miracle soon would be there.

The users were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of inquiries danced in their heads.
When out in the machines room there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.

And what to wondering eyes should appear,
But a super programmer (with a six-pack of beer).
His resume glowed with experience so rare,
He turned out great code with a bit-pusher's flair.

More rapid than eagles, his programs they came
And he cursed and muttered and called them by name.
On Update! On Add! On Inquiry! On Delete!
On Batch Jobs! On Closings! On Functions Complete!

His eyes were glazed over, fingers nimble and lean
From weekends and nights in front of the screen.
A wink of his eye and a twitch of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
Turning specs into code; then turned with a jerk,
And laying a finger upon the "ENTER" key,
The system came up and worked perfectly.

The updates updated; the deletes, they deleted;
The inquiries inquired; the closings completed.
He tested each whistle, and tested each bell,
With nary a bomb, and all had gone well.

The system was finished, the tests were concluded,
The users' last changes were even included.
And the user exclaimed with a snarl and a taunt,
"Its just what I asked for, but not what I want!"