Fun with Data
Data, covered in spider webs and moss,
With sad eyes and incarcerated hearts,
With heavy feet and immobile spirits,
With plastic smiles and metal lips,
Living in black houses with no windows,
Telling stories that can’t get off the ground,
With a pulse winding down and down,
In a heated race with a troop of snails,
One stop before the end of time,
Outside the gates of the Grim Reaper,
Contented with the death of the literalist,
A sad occasion and a sad story indeed.
Hail, the coming of
The data freshener-upper,
The poet on a rescue mission,
A man with shoes two feet long,
With a smile from ear to ear,
With a polka-dot suit over his shoulder,
Dressing up the data in a new crazy style,
With helium filled shoes in his hands
To launch it into space,
To have fun and laugh and sing,
To make up words and play with them,
To make up stories with no endings,
To jump up and down in the clouds
And roll with laughter
Until the end of time.
All hail to the
Emancipation of the Dataman,
The man who invented data.
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