'Twas the night before Christmas
On the net near and far
Not a newsgroup had traffic
'Cept Talk-dot-Bizarre
The phone lines were hung
By the modems with care
In hopes that some articles
Soon would be there
I was tired and weary
And needed the sack
But instead I was into
A long winters hack
When there, by the system
The modem did chatter
I jumped from my desk
What could be the matter?
Away to the system
I flew like a flash
I wondered aloud
"Sounds like a disk crash."
The glow of the system
From just received news
Gave the lustre of midday
To some really bizarre views
When what do I see
There right next to the fuse?
But a funny little hacker
And eight cpus
The funny little hacker
His words carefully chosen
I knew in a moment
It must be Rich Rosen!
More rapid than leased lines
His systems they came
He whistled and shouted
And called them by name
"Now topaz! Now seismo!
Now harvard and nike!
On quantel! On decvax!
On bellcore and hp!"
"To the end of the net!
Now dial that call!
Post all the articles!
Post! Post them all!"
He was dressed all in fur
And looked kinda kinky
I never did ask
What he did with that slinky
A disk full of something
Was under his arm
I thought to myself
"Can he do any harm?"
A wink of his eye
And a twist of his head
(If my boss ever reads this
I'll surely be dead)
He knew what he wanted
And went straight to the core
Filling all the newsgroups
With bullshit and more
He talked and he shouted
He swore and he boasted
Then giving a nod
All the articles were posted
He sprang to his keyboard
And typed in a line
With a "poof" he was gone
Hey! My eyesights just fine!
This poem is over
This poet is through
Just one final thought
"Happy Holidays to you!"
Author unknown.
