(This seems a good opportunity to have another go at my bete noire)
Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Gates,
The man whom every user hates
For putting us in desperate straits -
Admit it, you do!
When Windows hits the “screen of death”,
We grit our teeth and hold our breath,
Or growl some Luddite shibboleth
And turn to voodoo.
A little figure made of wax
Impaled with pins or carpet-tacks;
Yet somehow this solution lacks
A proper blitz.
So tumble, bombs, your goal awaits,
Obliterate his solid states,
And, like his software, let’s see Gates
Reduced to bits.
Last edited by Brian Allgar; 02-01-2013 at 08:50 AM.
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