Linux Songs Poems

Even in the moment of our earliest kiss,
When sighed the straitened bud into the flower,
Sat the dry seed of most unwelcome this;
And that I knew, though not the day and hour.
Too season-wise am I, being country-bred,
To tilt at autumn or defy the frost:
Snuffing the chill even as my fathers did,
I say with them, "What's out tonight is lost."
I only hoped, with the mild hope of all
Who watch the leaf take shape upon the tree,
A fairer summer and a later fall
Than in these parts a man is apt to see,
And sunny clusters ripened for the wine:
I tell you this across the blackened vine.
                -- Edna St. Vincent Millay, "Even in the Moment of
                   Our Earliest Kiss", 1931

Ever Onward!  Ever Onward!
That's the sprit that has brought us fame.
We're big but bigger we will be,
We can't fail for all can see, that to serve humanity
Has been our aim.
Our products now are known in every zone.
Our reputation sparkles like a gem.
We've fought our way thru
And new fields we're sure to conquer, too
For the Ever Onward IBM!
                -- Ever Onward, from the 1940 IBM Songbook

Ever since I was a young boy,
I've hacked the ARPA net,
From Berkeley down to Rutgers,          He's on my favorite terminal,
Any access I could get,                 He cats C right into foo,
But ain't seen nothing like him,        His disciples lead him in,
On any campus yet,                      And he just breaks the root,
That deaf, dumb, and blind kid,         Always has full SYS-PRIV's,
Sure sends a mean packet.               Never uses lint,
                                        That deaf, dumb, and blind kid,
                                        Sure sends a mean packet.
He's a UNIX wizard,
There has to be a twist.
The UNIX wizard's got                   Ain't got no distractions,
Unlimited space on disk.                Can't hear no whistles or bells,
How do you think he does it?            Can't see no message flashing,
I don't know.                           Types by sense of smell,
What makes him so good?                 Those crazy little programs,
                                        The proper bit flags set,
                                        That deaf, dumb, and blind kid,
                                        Sure sends a mean packet.
                -- UNIX Wizard

Every love's the love before
In a duller dress.
                -- Dorothy Parker, "Summary"

Every man is as God made him, ay, and often worse.
                -- Miguel de Cervantes

Every night my prayers I say,
        And get my dinner every day;
And every day that I've been good,
        I get an orange after food.
The child that is not clean and neat,
        With lots of toys and things to eat,
He is a naughty child, I'm sure--
        Or else his dear papa is poor.
                -- Robert Louis Stevenson

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded.  Everybody rolls with their
fingers crossed.  Everybody knows the war is over.  Everybody knows the
good guys lost.  Everybody knows the fight was fixed: the poor stay
poor, the rich get rich.  That's how it goes.  Everybody knows.

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking.  Everybody knows the captain
lied.  Everybody got this broken feeling like their father or their dog
just died.

Everybody talking to their pockets.  Everybody wants a box of chocolates
and long stem rose.  Everybody knows.

Everybody knows that you love me, baby.  Everybody knows that you really
do.  Everybody knows that you've been faithful, give or take a night or
two.  Everybody knows you've been discreet, but there were so many people
you just had to meet without your clothes.  And everybody knows.

And everybody knows it's now or never.  Everybody knows that it's me or you.
And everybody knows that you live forever when you've done a line or two.
Everybody knows the deal is rotten: Old Black Joe's still pickin' cotton
for you ribbons and bows.  And everybody knows.
        -- Leonard Cohen, "Everybody Knows"

Everything's great in this good old world;
(This is the stuff they can always use.)
God's in his heaven, the hill's dew-pearled;
(This will provide for baby's shoes.)
Hunger and War do not mean a thing;
Everything's rosy where'er we roam;
Hark, how the little birds gaily sing!
(This is what fetches the bacon home.)
                -- Dorothy Parker, "The Far Sighted Muse"

Everywhere you go you'll see them searching,
Everywhere you turn you'll feel the pain,
Everyone is looking for the answer,
Well look again.
                -- Moody Blues, "Lost in a Lost World"

F:      When into a room I plunge, I
        Sometimes find some VIOLET FUNGI.
        Then I linger, darkly brooding
        On the poison they're exuding.
                -- The Roguelet's ABC