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In the Ghetto
With apologies to Elvis:
As the snow flies
On a cold and gray Chicago morn’
A poor little ESP is born
In the ghetto
And its mama cries
’cause if there’s one thing that she don’t need
It’s another hungry box to feed
In the ghetto
People, don’t you understand?
My mail needs a helping hand,
Or it’ll grow to be an angry young spam some day.
Take a look at you and me,
Are we too blind to see?
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way?
Well the packets fly
And a hungry little mail with a runny nose
Plays in the tubes under the firewall’s hose
In the ghetto
And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the nets at night
And he learns how to steal
And he learns how to hide
In the ghetto
Then one night in desperation
A young mail breaks away
He buys a proxy, steals a bot,
Tries to run, but he don’t get far
And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers ’round an angry young mail
Firewall-blocked with an SBL in its hand
In the ghetto
As her young mail dies,
On a cold and gray Chicago morn’,
Another little baby mail is born
In the ghetto
MickC @ February 8, 2008