[net.poems] The Last Bug

dmmartindale (09/14/82)

                     _T_h_e _L_a_s_t _B_u_g


                "But what does it matter?"
                They said with a shrug.
                "The customer's happy.
                What's one little bug?"

                But he was determined.
                The others went home.
                He spread out the program
                Deserted....alone.

                The cleaning man came.
                The whole room was cluttered
                With punch cards, core dumps,
                "I'm close," he muttered.

                His mumbling grew louder,
                "Simple deduction!
                I've got it! It's right!
                Just change one instruction!"

                It still wasn't right,
                As year followed year,
                And strangers would query,
                "Is that nut still here?"

                He died at his console
                Of hunger and thirst.
                They buried him next day
                (Face down - nine edge first.)

                The last bug in sight,
                One small ant passing by,
                Saluted his tombstone
                And whispered, "Nice try."



I copied the above from a bulletin board at Brock University about
ten years ago.  I suspect it was written somewhere else but I don't
have any idea by whom or where, so I can't give the author proper credit.
(How many of you remember what "face down - nine edge first" refers to?)

finn@pur-ee.UUCP (07/14/83)

"But what does it matter?",
    they said with a shrug.
"The customer's happy,
    what's one little bug?"

But he was determined,
    the others went home.
He spread out the program,
    Deserted.  Alone.

The cleaning men came,
    the whole room was cluttered,
with punch cards and core dumps,
    "I'm close!", he muttered.

His mumbling grew louder.
    Simple deduction.
"I've got it!"  "It's right!"
    "Just change one instruction!"

It still wasn't right,
    as year followed year,
and strangers would query,
    "Is that nut still here?"

He died at his console,
    of hunger and thirst.
They buried him next day,
    (face down -- 9 edge first)

The last bug in sight,
    one small ant passing by,
saluted his tombstone,
    and whispered, "Nice try!"


	Unknown author

	You wanted rhyme and rhythm? ...
	I'll admit that we could use a bit more style in this
	newsgroup (Sequence X?? be real!), but I'll say this for the
	people who submit regularly,  at least they try, which is a lot
	more than their critics do...
	David Hesselberth,	Purdue University Computer Center
	{harpo, decvax, ucbvax} !pur-ee!finn  (or)  !pur-ee:pucc-h:adr

bentson@csu-cs.UUCP (07/20/83)

Check out "April Foolishness", Datamation, April, 197[0-5] for
the first printing (as I recall) of this poem.

Randy Bentson
csu-cs!bentson
Colo State U - Comp Sci