The light was shining from the screen,
Shining with all its might:
It did its very best to make
The chat room smooth and bright --
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the light
Had got no business to be on
in the darkest dead of night--
'It's bloody rude of him.' she said,
'To shine so very bright!'

The computer was on as on could be,
The modem never dead.
You could not see a book, because
No book was being read:
Only the patter of little keys--
and the nodding of a head.

The Walrus and the Mudcatter
Were snooping through the posts:
They wept like anything to see
addicted cyber ghosts:
"I want to read it all they said,'
such jovial Mudcat hosts'

'If seven nerds with seven mouses
Mined it for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Walrus said,
'That they could get it clear?'
'l doubt it,' said the Mudcatter,
And shed a bitter tear.

'O chatters, come and walk with us!
The Walrus did invite.
'A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
throughout the cyber night:
We cannot chat with more than four,
Twill be a cyber fight.'

The eldest Catter looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Catter winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head --
Meaning to say he did not choose
To get up out of bed.

Out four young Chatters hurried up.
All eager for the treat:
Their modems brushed, their keyboards washed,
Their fingers clean and neat --
And this was odd, because, you know,
They coulnt sing in beat.

Four other Chatters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more --
All hopping through the cyber waves,
And scrambling for more.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Snooped on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a thread
Conveniently low:
And all the little Catters stood
And waited in a row.

'The time has come,' the Walrus said,
'To talk of many things:
Of Shatner -- Bob-- and healing wax --
Of mudcatters -- and things --
And why the screen is always on--
And roasted buffalo wings.'

'But wait a bit,' the Catters cried,
'Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!'
'No hurry!' said our Pene Azul.
They thanked him much for that.

'A loaf of thought,' the Walrus said,
'Is what we chiefly need:
poems and limericks besides
Are very good indeed --
Now, if you're ready, Catters dear,
We can begin to read.'

'But not of us!' the Catters cried,
Turning a little blue.
'After such kindness, that would be
A trollish thing to do!'
'The night is fine,' the Walrus said,
What else is there to do?'

'It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!'
The Mudcatters said nothing but
'Tell us another one -
Youve gone and made our mud threads drift-
now theyre no longer fun!'

'It seems a shame,' the Walrus said,
'To play them such a trick.
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!'
The Mudcatter said nothing but
'The irony's spread too thick!'

'I weep for you,'the Walrus said:
'I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

'O catters,' said the computer screen,
'You've had a pleasant run!
Shall you be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none --
And this was scarcely odd, because
The catters were not done.

Lewis F. Carroll