This is my second or third attempt at SQL poetry (or data poetry). It was published on SQL Simon in November 2008, but was originally published on a www.sqlservercentral.com forum in December 2007, which I came up with in response to a humorous Christmas article written by Phil Factor – I’d enjoyed his previous data related stories in his blog on www.simple-talk.com.
The idea came from a previous job working for a multi-national IT consultancy and outsourcing firm. The names of Bill Gates’ reindeer are the code names of SQL Server versions. I was also reading up on Linux, hence a somewhat anti-Microsoft theme.
‘Twas the night before Christmas in the data warehouse
Not a feature was stirring, nor a click of a mouse.
Overclocked by the technicians, the machines had been with care
In hope of better performance, warranties voided with fanfare.
The managers were nestled all snug in their beds,
With visions of Vista dancing in their big heads.
And Ops in the data centre, and I in my flat,
Had just settled down for a well deserved night-cap.
When out of the blue the pager went off,
I sprang from my chair to turn the damn thing off.
I picked up the phone as quick as a flash,
To the data centre now, I had to dash.
The moon on my car, all covered in snow,
I brushed it aside, but before I could go,
When what should I see,
But Bill Gates and co taking a Wii.
With a non-Windows driver, so lively and quick,
For my digital camera and my Linux laptop,
More rapid than Windows, his curses they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called out some names:
“Hydra and Sphinx, Shiloh and Yukon,
Katmai and Longhorn” are the words that he’d spoken.
I switched on the torch, to the night bare he all,
Now crash again, crash again, crash again did they all.
To the data centre now, like a hurricane fly
When I met with an obstacle, I mounted the pavement and flew through the sky
Past the house-tops, my car of course flew,
Like a 747 heavily-laden and wings broken too.
And then in a moment, I landed on the roof
of the data centre building with one giant “boof”
As I opened my door, and was turning around
Bill Gates again, came with a bound.
He was dressed in jumper and jeans
His clothes were surprisingly clean,
A bundle of toys wrapped in a sack
He was a peddlar of Backgammon and Minesweeper in this Service Pack.
His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples how merry
His cheeks were like roses, in his hand a BlackBerry.
His droll little mouth was wide open in smile,
His chin jutting out like a cabinet file.
The stump of a pencil he held tight in his teeth,
And his breath encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, making a prat of himself,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had something to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the buffers; then turned what a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, the servers they froze.
He sprang off the roof, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew and the snow came down like rain drizzle.
Then I heard Ops exclaim, with Bill Gates out of sight,
“The servers have crashed, this has not been a good night.”