Dec 20, 2017, 22:17 pm
'Twas the night before Riffmas, when all through the 'Net
Not a user was leeching, not even a bot;
The computers were running by the routers with care,
In hopes that Saint BSG soon would be there;
The downloaders were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of new seeds danced in their heads;
And forums and channels quieted down,
'tube streams and tweets were hardly around,
When out on my ISP there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what 'twas the matter.
Away to the screen I flew like a flash,
To start up my client and log on to share.
My email box was empty, wouldn't ya know,
And the web was quiet to the advertiser's woe,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But new forum posts, and Saint BSG in high gear,
With these forum threads, sighted with glee,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint B.
More rapid than ever his packets they came,
And he seeded and uploaded torrents by name;
"Now, ALFIE! now, CHOPPER! now, EMI and KISSY!
On, MARTHA! on REBUS! on, STARDUST and YUMI!
To the ISP router! to the user modem!
Now upload data! seed data! torrents are golden!"
And then, in a twinkling, on my computer environment
The downloads stirred from the other user clients.
As I swiveled my chair, and was turning around,
Down my net pipe Saint B came with a bound.
He brought meta-data, both nfos and descriptions,
His filenames were long like Egyptian inscriptions;
A bundle of seeds he had flung on his drives,
And he looked like a pirate with a patch on his eye.
His computer -- how it computed! his editors how merry!
His converters were converting, his muxer was cherry!
His droll forum posts were drawn up like a bow,
And the data on his drives were ready to go;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
And filled all requests; a joyful Riffmas clerk,
And laying his mouse aside by his computer,
He saw the clients grow, his pipe now burdened further;
He sprang to his monitor, to his drives he gave a whistle,
And away they all spun with the speed of a missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere his final forth flight,
"HAPPY RIFFMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"
Not a user was leeching, not even a bot;
The computers were running by the routers with care,
In hopes that Saint BSG soon would be there;
The downloaders were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of new seeds danced in their heads;
And forums and channels quieted down,
'tube streams and tweets were hardly around,
When out on my ISP there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what 'twas the matter.
Away to the screen I flew like a flash,
To start up my client and log on to share.
My email box was empty, wouldn't ya know,
And the web was quiet to the advertiser's woe,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But new forum posts, and Saint BSG in high gear,
With these forum threads, sighted with glee,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint B.
More rapid than ever his packets they came,
And he seeded and uploaded torrents by name;
"Now, ALFIE! now, CHOPPER! now, EMI and KISSY!
On, MARTHA! on REBUS! on, STARDUST and YUMI!
To the ISP router! to the user modem!
Now upload data! seed data! torrents are golden!"
And then, in a twinkling, on my computer environment
The downloads stirred from the other user clients.
As I swiveled my chair, and was turning around,
Down my net pipe Saint B came with a bound.
He brought meta-data, both nfos and descriptions,
His filenames were long like Egyptian inscriptions;
A bundle of seeds he had flung on his drives,
And he looked like a pirate with a patch on his eye.
His computer -- how it computed! his editors how merry!
His converters were converting, his muxer was cherry!
His droll forum posts were drawn up like a bow,
And the data on his drives were ready to go;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
And filled all requests; a joyful Riffmas clerk,
And laying his mouse aside by his computer,
He saw the clients grow, his pipe now burdened further;
He sprang to his monitor, to his drives he gave a whistle,
And away they all spun with the speed of a missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere his final forth flight,
"HAPPY RIFFMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"
