A Poem By An Old Timer
A computer was something on TV
From a science fiction show of note.
A window was something you hated to clean
And ram was the cousin of a goat.
Meg was the name of my girlfriend,
And gig was a job for the nights.
Now they all mean different things,
And that really mega bytes.
An application was for employment,
A program was a TV show.
A cursor used profanity,
A keyboard was a piano.
Memory was something you lost with age,
A CD was a bank account.
And if you had a 3 inch floppy,
You hoped nobody found out.
Compress was something you did to garbage,
Not something you did to a file.
And if you unzipped anything in public,
You'd be in jail for awhile.
Log on was adding wood to the fire,
Hard drive was a long trip on the road.
A mouse pad was where a mouse lived,
And a backup happened to your commode.
Cut you did with a pocket knife,
Paste you did with glue.
A web was a spiders home,
And a virus was the flu.
I guess I'll stick to my pen and paper,
And the memory in my head.
I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash.
But when it happens they wish they were dead.
