“Once upon a midnight dreary, as I worked at SCO/Caldera,
Searching many quaint and curious printouts of forgotten source
—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my office door.
“Tis some co-worker,” I muttered, “tapping at my office door —
Only this, and nothing more.”“Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the sere September,
And each fragmentary member of my UNIX code lay on the floor.
Nervously I feared the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow
From old code surcease of sorrow–sorrow for the sinking score
—
For the sinking, dwindling, stinking ticker telling our stock’s
score —
Profitless for evermore…”
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