Seeing my great fault

Through darkening blue windows

I begin again

There was a young man of King's Cross,
Who amused himself frigging a horse.
Then licking the spend
Which still dripped from the end,
Said, "It tastes just like anchovy sauce."

                            Ten Little Gigabytes
     
   
Ten little gigabytes, waiting on line
one caught a virus, then there were nine.

Nine little gigabytes, holding just the date,
someone jambed a write protect, then there were eight.

Eight little gigabytes, should have been eleven,
then they cut the budget, now there are seven.

Seven little gigabytes, involved in mathamatics
stored an even larger prime, now there are six.

Six little gigabytes, working like a hive,
one died of overwork, now there are five.

Five little gigabytes, trying to add more
plugged in the wrong lead, now there are four.

Four little gigabytes, failing frequently,
one used for spare parts, now there are three.

Three little gigabytes, have too much to do
service man on holiday, now there are two.

Two little gigabytes, badly over run,
took the work elsewhere, now just need one.

One little gigabyte, systems far too small
shut the whole thing down, now there's none at all.
  

There was a young man from Montrose 
               Who could diddle himself with his toes. 
                    He did it so neat 
                    He fell in love with his feet, 
               And christened them Myrtle and Rose

Said a Palestine pilgrim named Wadham, 
               "For religion I don't give a Goddem! 
                    I've frequently peed in 
                    The Garden of Eden, 
               And buggered my guide when in Sodom."