My laptop is terminally ill
I hate to harp upon this still
This morning I prepared to boot it up
And pottered off to fill my cup
Upon returning to my chair
I offered up a single prayer
To no avail the screen was black
I called IT cried “Alas, alack!”
They came, they saw, they shook their heads, they left.
I stood alone, utterly bereft
In anguish I gave it one good thump
And then the darling thing came up trumps
I have the gift of IT CPR
I brought back it to life with ne’er a scar
I copied off everything trivial and bizarre
And am checking it in to IT ER


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