Linux Songs Poems

This is for all ill-treated fellows
        Unborn and unbegot,
For them to read when they're in trouble
        And I am not.
                -- A. E. Housman

This is the story of the bee
Whose sex is very hard to see

You cannot tell the he from the she
But she can tell, and so can he

The little bee is never still
She has no time to take the pill

And that is why, in times like these
There are so many sons of bees.

This is the way the world ends,
This is the way the world ends,
This is the way the world ends,
Not with a bang but with a whimper.
                -- T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"

This land is my land, and only my land,
I've got a shotgun, and you ain't got one,
If you don't get off, I'll blow your head off,
This land is private property.
                -- Apologies to Woody Guthrie

This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down.

Those who sweat in flames of hell,      Leaden eared, some thought their bowels
Here's the reason that they fell:       Lispeth forth the sweetest vowels.
While on earth they prayed in SAS,      These they offered up in praise
PL/1, or other crass,                   Thinking all this fetid haze
Vulgar tongue.                          A rapsody sung.

Some the lord did sorely try            Jabber of the mindless horde
Assembling all their pleas in hex.      Sequel next did mock the lord
Speech as crabbed as devil's crable     Slothful sequel so enfangled
Hex that marked on Tower Babel          Its speaker's lips became entangled
The highest rung.                       In his bung.

Because in life they prayed so ill
And offered god such swinish swill
Now they sweat in flames of hell
Sweat from lack of APL
Sweat dung!

Though I respect that a lot
I'd be fired if that were my job
After killing Jason off and
Countless screaming argonauts

Bluebird of friendliness
Like guardian angels it's
Always near

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
Who watches over you
Make a little birdhouse in your soul
Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul
                -- "Birdhouse in your Soul", They Might Be Giants

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
                -- J.R.R. Tolkien, "The Lord of the Rings"

Throw away documentation and manuals,
and users will be a hundred times happier.
Throw away privileges and quotas,
and users will do the Right Thing.
Throw away proprietary and site licenses,
and there won't be any pirating.

If these three aren't enough,
just stay at your home directory
and let all processes take their course.

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your hometown
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way

Tired of lying in the sunshine          And then one day you find
Staying home to watch the rain          Ten years have got behind you
You are young and life is long          No one told you when to run
And there is time to kill today         You missed the starting gun

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

Every year is getting shorter           Hanging on in quiet desperation
                                                is the English way
Never seem to find the time             The time is gone, the song is over
Plans that either come to nought        Thought I'd something more to say...
Or half a page of scribbled lines
                -- Pink Floyd, "Time"