'Twas the night before deadline and all through the house,
Not a program was working--even with a mouse.
The programmers had hung their heads with despair,
With hopes that a miracle soon would be there.
The users were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of inquiries danced in their heads.
When out of the office their arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a super programmer (with a six-pack of beer).
His resume glowed with experience so rare,
He turned out great code with a bit pusher's flare.
More rapid that Eagles, his programs they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
On Update! On Add! On Inquiry! On Delete!
On Alias Jobs! On Closing! On Functions Complete!
His eyes were glazed over, fingers nimble and lean,
From weekends and nights spent in front of his screen.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Turning specs into code, then turned with a jerk;
And laying his finger upon the "Enter" key,
The system came up and worked perfectly.
The updates updated; the deletes, they deleted,
Inquiries inquired, and repeats, they repeated;
He tested each whistle, and tested each bell,
With nary an Error, all had gone well.
The system was finished, the tests were concluded.
The clients last changes were even included.
Then super programmer split in a flash,
But not before he'd taken all of their cash.
When they awoke and saw all that was there,
All the clients could do was glare like some bears.
Then they exclaimed with a snarl and a taunt,
"It's just what I asked for, but not what I want!"