(To the tune of Mary Hamilton, Child Ballad #173)

The Four Coders

Word is to the cubicle,
the word is in the hall.
And word is out to me and my team,
and that's the worst of all.
That many hands will be lost today
as they fire a fourth of us all.

"Arise, arise! said my manager,
"Arise and tell to me
What thou hast done to justify
The money I paid to thee."

"I put it in a mighty box,
and set up inetd,
That it might serve or it might route,
But it'll never come back to me."

"Arise, arise!" said my manager,
"Arise and come with me.
There is a meeting in conference room
B9, we'll go and see."

And as we strode that corridor
All that we could hear
Was the squeaking of our cordovans
Until the doorway drew near.

As we entered the conference room
It was plain to see
There was just one thought on all our minds:
"I hope that it isn't me."

"Ah, you need not weep for me," I thought:
"You need not weep for me,
For if you're not gone this time around
The time will come for thee."

Ah, little did my teachers think
When first they graded me,
The lands I was to travel in
And the things I was to see.

Then by and by the man himself,
Looked up with a pitiless eye,
"Come in, come in, if you're on my list,
Your badge you'll give to me."

"Ah, hold your tongue," we all did think,
"And let your folly be;
For if you'd a mind to save our jobs
You'd never have called us here."

"Cast off, cast off we are," folks cried,
"But let our coverage be,
Without a COBRA and drug plan
The gallows we soon will see."

Last night we ate cold pizza as
We fixed the network again,
And the only reward we find for this,
We're laid off like all our friends.

Last night there were four coders,
Tonight there'll be but three:
There was Harry Beaton, and Nancy Seaton,
And Jerry Carmichael, and me.