Twas the site before Christmas,
And all I could do
Was upload a JPEG,
I had not a clue,

The coding was backwards,
The tags were all scattered,
If the java won't run
Then the picture won't matter

When what to my virus ridden email appeared
But a picture of a redneck wearing plaid with a beard
The message attached was not terrible news
But a promise to fix my site by a quarter to two

The CGI language is hard to adapt
To a site with a question of where it should map
The database vexed me and I was a mess
I shouldn't have reason to endure all this stress

My paycheck is measly, my benefits nill
I prorate the charges and still pay the bill
The server will drop me if I over run
The boundary set forth by parameter one

So this is the foolest position to take
A fat chance to survive on the money I make
The clients are happy with shoddy results
Though I take my time to quicken their pulse

I know that it's useless to try to complain
But why am I pushing when they've missed the train
I see that I need to be bolder by far
But what can I offer, when that's how they are

And I heard they reclaimed that bit of a site
And a business folds up in spite of it's right