Just a guest, but may I add mine? I've gotten a lot of airplay out of this, plus some nasty e-mails from Ariel Rogers.

The IBM Computer (to the tune of "The Mary Ellen Carter")
by Brian Leo ©1999

She went down at 9:30 in a show'r of data bits.
The screen went dark just after having ee-lectronic fits.
There'll be no work today, boys, till the screens come back again,
so we might as well sit back and play some gin.
There was just us five around her when we found we couldn't sign on.
We cried, "Oh, hell. Today, sir, let's just give up and be gone."
But the boss said we should sit there, so we grumbled in disdain:
would our IBM computer rise again?
        
Well, the help desk wrote us off. There was nothing they could do.
"The mainframe's in Wisconsin in a barn in Baraboo.
"We'll surely think of something so you must have faith, my friends."
Then they laughed at us and said to write with...pens!
We grouched until twelve-thirty with naught to do but sit.
"They spent a quarter million on this worthless, high-tech...stuff!"
And with ev'ry cup that we drank up the boss said to remain
in case our IBM computer'd rise again.

Rise again, rise again,        lest her data be lost to the knowledge of men.
All those who want to work, not just sit here and pretend,
pray that their IBM computers rise again.

All morning they've been with her, sixteen programmers or more,
intoning cryptic phrases like some ancient priests of yore.
Some keypunch in the front while others poke around in back,
but still the screen's a cold, forbidding black.
They dance and burn some incense and they make an awful din.
Till one small voice says, "Tell you what. Let's plug the damned thing in."
Behold! the screen's a-glitter and the mouse says, "Where you been?
"Come watch your IBM computer rise again!"
        (chorus)

For we couldn't leave her there, you see, like men who have no hearts.
She'd saved our jobs so many times with color-graphic charts.
And the laughing ones who'd said, "She's done. It's time to buy a Mac,"
they won't be laughing when the screens come back.
And you to whom "computer" means a box that leaves you cold,
with servers, passwords, Windows, ROMs and modules and modes,
reboot, and punch a thousand keys and cuss awhile and then
make your IBM computer, rise again!
        Rise again, rise again!
        though your fingers be broken and the input has no end.
        No matter what you've lost, be it a chart, a graph, a plan,
        like your IBM computer, rise again!