When you run a web-site, you may try as you might
To maintain a facade of your piety

But you'll see some may use, randy language they choose
To indulge in, with loud impropriety

Porno raining like fire---the perverts conspire---
In numerous numbers to plunder you

First your motherboard goes, and surrenders to those,
Who would steal it impurely from under you

Then your firewall's rubble---your network's in trouble---
So terribly smart is their cracking

And you're now at a loss, and you fumble and floss
Ev'ry mem'ry address that they're hacking

Then the perverts all creep to the sound of a beep
And you see 'em all coming in faster

Next your keyboard resigns and politely declines
To take part in impending disaster

Well, you go get a Coke but it's warm and you choke
On that sugary ca-ra-mel brewage

While the lumbering teams with the horrible schemes
Start to bury your server in sewage

It's no dream, you are losing the battle they're choosing
You're shouting and screaming in diction

Which is something between impolite and obscene
And a very appalling affliction

And you're facing defeat from the vice-hammer-beat
Of that party of vengeful invaders

They're a ravenous horde--and your poor motherboard's
Alone there and now facing Darth Vader

You find an attorney asleep on a gurney
In your local hospital's lobby

And he says that your case is no ambulance-chase
And computers aren't his kind of hobby

Well, you're driving like mad and you're feeling real bad
As you hurry back home to your PC

Where they're playing lewd games, and they call you bad names
When you tell them they're slimy and sleazy

And this they can't stand, so they throw up a hand,
And you're staring at rude middle digital

And you're hurt and you're shocked and you're certain they've rocked
You so badly you're tempted to ditch it all

And now on your tube is a virtual boob
Which has somehow or other invaded it

And it's swelling so large it's as large as a barge
Every pixel you see has inflated it

It's a scheme of their vices, to get at low prices
Computer time free for the taking

They tickle your cable, their goal to enable,
Their filthy and foul mischief-making

You get a good filter to throw them off-kilter
(first you must re-boot with "Salute-Three")

And you beg for relief, but the Finger-of-Grief,
Flips a birdie and says " I'll compute free! "

On your screen, grosser sleaze -- nude wet apes in green trees,
Crawling flowers on apples and man-berries

While the randy hackers eat their SPAM and crackers,
Snickers, Slim Jims, and Maraschino cherries

You stare and you mourn so, as gut-wrenching porno
Is raping your CPU wildly

You bawl and you howl and to call this stuff foul
Is without a doubt putting it mildly ----

Your computer's a wreck,
And it's sicker than heck,
And a blundering whore,
Gives a thundering roar
From its screen, and within,
There's an unholy grin,
That was left by a creep,
For years deftly did sleep,
Then it woke up and rose,
And applied all its woes,
And some stuff that it flung,
Turned your hard drive to dung,
And a virus attacked,
Without warning or tact,
And you find yourself venting to Rover ----

But the hackers, at last --

Have now run out of gas --

And their blight was quite long --

-- ditto ditto my song --

-- and thank goodness they're both of them over!