Hundreds of the tiniest violins play a long heartrending tune
"My Internet is down will it be up soon!"
The sad notes bring a tear to my eye,
The moon peeking its head out of the darkening sky.
Slowly the violins fade as their masters curse and they cry.
There will be no net tonight, I forlornly reply.
No blogging, no chatting, no e-mail, no porn.
What can I do?
I'm as helpless as you.
The stars shine brighter and brighter,
Hope slides slighter and slighter.
The witching hour approaches as the masses give in,
A crickety silence quite as sin.
Such a sweet tune it was, poignant and sweet.
On the morrow the violins will be playing loud and from high
Once again bringing a tear to my eye,
But for now it's me and the Cisco guy.