The Night of Tax Day

THE NIGHT OF TAX DAY

‘Twas the night of Tax Day…
And all thru the house,
Every creature was whirring,
Even the mouse.
The floppy was placed in the disk drive with care,
In certainty Saint Silicon soon would be there.
The chips were nestled
All snug in their sockets,
Their RAM filled with visions of STARWARS and ROCKETS.
And Mamma in her kerchief
And I in my cap
Had just settled down
For a long ev’ning’s rap,
When out of the drives there arose such a racket,
I raised up my fist, right ready to whack it.
Away to the printer I flew like a flash,
And I swore that I’d change my brand of hash!
More rapid than junk FAX these tax forms they came,
And it booped and it beeped and it called ’em by name:
Now Form 1040! Now Form 1065! Now Schedules A and D too!
On! Form 1120! Form 4562!! Form 1098!!! Form 8362!!!!

To the top of the ladder,
To The Top of The Heap!
Just go away,
Go Away!
I gotta sleep.
As stray bits which down the cable do fly,
When they meet with the processor, soon go awry,
So up the tab all these taxes they flew,
With a surtax
And threats of penalty and interest too!
Now it may be some virus was having its yucks,
But the total was over 87 kilobux.
So she read all the Pubs, and she said, “What the heck!”
Then we signed all the forms, and we wrote ’em a check.
And crossing her fingers and blowing her nose
And giving a nod, from her chair she arose.
She ran to her van, to the key gave a twist,
With a spray of gravel, you could tell she was pist.
And I heard her exclaim as she roared out of sight–
“I think in Paducah they’ll postmark it midnight.”

Copywright (c) 1990, 1996 by David P Beiter, proliferate freely.
1/2 Fast Software, Ritner KY 42639. byter@mcimail.com 606/376-3137

My sincere apologies to Dr. Clement Clarke Moore.

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