[net.misc] As promised! The Irish Ballad

fair@dual.UUCP (Erik E. Fair) (11/12/83)

			      Irish Ballad


	       About a maid I'll sing a song,
		 Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
	       About a maid I'll sing a song
	       Who didn't have her family long.
	       Not only did she do them wrong,
		 She did every one of them in, them in,
		 She did every one of them in.

	       One morning in a fit of pique,
		 Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
	       One morning in a fit of pique,
	       She drowned her father in the creek.
	       The water tasted bad for a week,
		 And we had to make do with gin, with gin,
		 We had to make do with gin.

	       Her mother she could never stand,
		 Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
	       Her mother she could never stand,
	       And so a cyanide soup she planned.
	       The mother died with a spoon in her hand,
		 And her face in a hideous grin, a grin,
		 Her face in a hideous grin.

	       She set her sister's hair on fire,
		 Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
	       She set her sister's hair on fire,
	       And as the smoke and flames rose high'r,
	       Danced around the funeral pyre,
		 Playin' a violin, -olin,
		 Playin' a violin.

	       She weighted her brother down with stones,
		 Rickety-tickety-tin,
	       She weighted her brother down with stones,
	       And sent him off to Davy Jones.
	       All they ever found were some bones,
		 And occasional pieces of skin, of skin,
		 Occasional pieces of skin.

	       One day when she had nothing to do,
		 Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
	       One day when she had nothing to do,
	       She cut her baby brother in two,
	       And served him up as an Irish stew,
		 And invited the neighbors in, -bors in,
		 Invited the neighbors in!

	       And when at last the police came by,
		 Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
	       And when at last the police came by,
	       Her little pranks she did not deny,
	       To do so, she would have had to lie,
		 And lying, she knew, was a sin, a sin,
		 Lying, she knew, was a sin.

	       My tragic tale I won't prolong,
		 Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
	       My tragic tale I won't prolong,
	       And if you do not enjoy my song,
	       You've yourselves to blame if it's too long,
		 You should never have let me begin, begin,
		 You should never have let me begin.

			- Once again, Music & Lyrics by Tom Lehrer

diamant@cwruecmp.UUCP (John Diamant) (11/13/83)

I have seen many one liners about computer songs, as well as several Tom
Lehrer songs and thought this might be interesing.  A while ago, I ran
across this version of An Irish Ballad.  It was written at Johns Hopkins
University (from a songbook compiled by their science fiction
association).


			      AN IRISH CPU
		   (to An Irish Ballad by Tom Lehrer)
		       by Sarah Elizabeth Miller

About a CPU I sing,
Sing rickity, tickity, tin.
About a CPU I sing
Who sat around compi-a-ling
And wouldn't do another thing
For anyone else logged in, logged in,
For anyone else logged in.

Old programs it would just ignore,
Sing rickity, tickity, tin.
Old programs it would just ignore
And leave them rotting in the core,
Not caring what they all were for
Except those in "user/bin", "user/bin",
Except those in "user/bin".

This CPU was lots of fun,
Sing rickity, tickity, tin.
This CPU was lots of fun
Until one wanted programs run
And if one tried to get them done
It typed back "You're not logged in, logged in."
It typed back "You're not logged in."

Long processes it would not do,
Sing rickity, tickity, tin.
Long processes it would not do
And, rather than to run them through,
Would ask to have some Irish stew
And a couple of cases of gin, of gin,
And a couple of cases of gin.

And then it would raise hellish toasts,
Sing rickity, tickity, tin.
And then it would raise hellish toasts
And make a few obnoxious boasts,
Not only could it drink the most,
It knew many more ways to sin, to sin.
It knew many more ways to sin.

To prove its point to all the world,
Sing rickity, tickity, tin.
To prove its point to all the world
It let the magtape fall in curls
And wrap around some foxy girl
And slowly rewind her in, her in,
And slowly rewind her in.

This sordid tale I won't prolong,
Sing rickity, tickity, tin.
This sordid tale I won't prolong
And, if you do not enjoy my song,
You've got Abe to blame if it's too long.
He should never have let me begin, begin.
He should never have let me begin.


John Diamant				Usenet: ...decvax!cwruecmp!diamant
Case Western Reserve University		CSNet:  diamant@Case
Cleveland, Ohio				ARPA:   diamant.Case@Rand-Relay