Linux Songs Poems

I shot a query into the net.
I haven't got an answer yet,            A posted message called me rotten
But seven people gave me hell           For ignoring mail I'd never gotten;
And said I ought to learn to spell;     An angry message asked me, Please
                                        Don't send such drivel overseas;
A lawyer sent me private mail
And swore he'd slap my ass in jail --   One netter thought it was a hoax:
I'd mentioned Un*x in my gem            "Hereafter, post to net dot jokes!";
And failed to add the T and M;          Another called my grammar vile
                                        And criticized my writing style.
Each day I scan each Subject line
In hopes the topic will be mine;
I shot a query into the net.
I haven't got an answer yet...
                -- Ed Nather

I stood on the leading edge,
The eastern seaboard at my feet.
"Jump!" said Yoko Ono
I'm too scared and good-looking, I cried.
Go on and give it a try,
Why prolong the agony, all men must die.
                -- Roger Waters, "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking"

I think that I shall never hear
A poem lovelier than beer.
The stuff that Joe's Bar has on tap,
With golden base and snowy cap.
The stuff that I can drink all day
Until my mem'ry melts away.
Poems are made by fools, I fear
But only Schlitz can make a beer.

I think that I shall never see
A billboard lovely as a tree.
Indeed, unless the billboards fall
I'll never see a tree at all.
                -- Ogden Nash

I think that I shall never see
A thing as lovely as a tree.
But as you see the trees have gone
They went this morning with the dawn.
A logging firm from out of town
Came and chopped the trees all down.
But I will trick those dirty skunks
And write a brand new poem called 'Trunks'.

"I thought that you said you were 20 years old!"
"As a programmer, yes," she replied,
"And you claimed to be very near two meters tall!"
"You said you were blonde, but you lied!"
Oh, she was a hacker and he was one, too,
They had so much in common, you'd say.
They exchanged jokes and poems, and clever new hacks,
And prompts that were cute or risque'.
He sent her a picture of his brother Sam,
She sent one from some past high school day,
And it might have gone on for the rest of their lives,
If they hadn't met in L.A.
"Your beard is an armpit," she said in disgust.
He answered, "Your armpit's a beard!"
And they chorused: "I think I could stand all the rest
If you were not so totally weird!"
If she had not said what he wanted to hear,
And he had not done just the same,
They'd have been far more honest, and never have met,
And would not have had fun with the game.
                -- Judith Schrier, "Face to Face After Six Months of
                Electronic Mail"

I used to be such a sweet sweet thing, 'til they got a hold of me,
I opened doors for little old ladies, I helped the blind to see,
I got no friends 'cause they read the papers, they can't be seen,
With me, and I'm feelin' real shot down,
And I'm, uh, feelin' mean,
        No more, Mr. Nice Guy,
        No more, Mr. Clean,
        No more, Mr. Nice Guy,
They say "He's sick, he's obscene".

My dog bit me on the leg today, my cat clawed my eyes,
Ma's been thrown out of the social circle, and Dad has to hide,
I went to church, incognito, when everybody rose,
The reverend Smithy, he recognized me,
And punched me in the nose, he said,
(chorus)
He said "You're sick, you're obscene".
                -- Alice Cooper, "No More Mr. Nice Guy"

I was born in a barrel of butcher knives
Trouble I love and peace I despise
Wild horses kicked me in my side
Then a rattlesnake bit me and he walked off and died.
                -- Bo Diddley

I was eatin' some chop suey,
With a lady in St. Louie,
When there sudden comes a knockin' at the door.
And that knocker, he says, "Honey,
Roll this rocker out some money,
Or your daddy shoots a baddie to the floor."
                -- Mr. Miggle

I went home with a waitress,
The way I always do.
How I was I to know?
She was with the Russians too.

I was gambling in Havana,
I took a little risk.
Send lawyers, guns, and money,
Dad, get me out of this.
                -- Warren Zevon, "Lawyers, Guns and Money"