Whose web this is I think I know,
His name is in the url though,
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his web site bloom and grow.
My little mouse must think it queer
To stop without some content here
Between my stock and Yahoo! page
The coolest evening of the year.
But before I leave here in my haste,
And regard this as a waste,
I will vow a quick return
For after all, I have good taste.
The web is lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep.
And hours to surf before I sleep.
And hours to surf before I sleep.
Poetry plagiarized from Robert Frost (1874-1962)
debuggery: