Man oh man old man I am

 

I still have a tool, it's called a slide rule

It's powered by porridge and steak

It slides back and forth on the flick of a whim

And calculates wealth oft with scorn

I have too a board and a t-square to boot

And angles and curves which can draw

Mansions with gold faucets and huge walk in closets

At scales of one thousand to one

My efforts at schooling were driven by yearning

For knowledge of cathodes that glowed

With a punch card inserted they'd give you the gigo

When loops just had no where to go

My commodore sixteen was hooked to the tv

The numbers came live on the screen

Games were envisioned with wild contusions

Till the memory was thrashed for the crash

Learned booting with floppies, dos pirated from Gates

Used Basic as the backdrop for programing

Silly paradigms with no hope of reward, so

Succumbed to compilers but my dog chewed them up

First cads were a nightmare, they should have been outlawed

Just took my computer and pawned it for greenbacks

And took my dog fishing, him with his floppies

Now that I'm ancient I just use it for porn