One of my dust covered rediscoveries.
     Hope you enjoy it,
  When you try to compute with a disk that won't boot 
  It is hard to maintain your sobriety.
  I conceive you may use any language you choose 
  To indulge in without impropriety.
  In FORTRAN or COBOL, your miseries snowball, 
  In Basic things seem just as dreary.
  Then your programs aborts, and your floppies contort, 
  And it's time to commit hara kiri.
  For your brain is on fire, your disk drives conspire 
  And blacker than black grows the scenery.
  You go deeper in debt, and begin to regret 
  That dark day you bought your machinery.
  If you'd known that computing could be so uprooting, 
  You'd never have got your diploma.
  Now you break all connections and eat the directions 
  And sink to the floor in a coma...
  Where you get some repose in the form of a doze 
  With hot eyeballs and head aching,
  But your slumbering teems with such horrible dreams 
  That you'd very much better be waking.
  For you dream that your Apple is ground up like scrapple 
  And sprinkled like salt on your dinner,
  And Radio Shack is served up as a snack
  You can't eat then, and start growing thinner.
  When you think things can't worsen, along comes a Personal 
  P.C. from good old I-B-M
  It's chopped up in your soup, along with a big scoop 
  Of guts of your printer from 3M.
  You eat disk drives and cables served up on log tables. 
  You long for a steak from a dear ox.
  You eat chips from a tray, and when that's cleared away, 
  Your desert is a fudge-coverd Xerox.
  You get offers to trade disks for plum marmalade, 
  But you can't face this "Let's Make A Deal" world. 
  Just when things go well, you wake from your spell 
  And you find that you're back in the real world.