I do not think that I shall see
A more forlorn abject memory
As a tattered notebook, now years old,
And in it almost illegibly, a lump of code
Its author’s comment, now long gone
Oh where the Hell did this come from?
T’was only borrowed, years ago
To put on my website, as if to show
That I was surely in the know . . .
Oh where were all those years did go,
But the pace of progress is relentless
To now relearning makes you senseless
As if divined your fate would have it
That your job prospects don’t turn to shit