My apologies to Poe fans everywhere:
Once upon a year-end dreary, while I pondered weak and weary
Over many internet fantasy football's newly posted score
While I muddled, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping
As if some one gently rapping, rapping at my office door.
"Tis some janitor," I muttered, "tapping at my office door -
Only this, and nothing more
Ah, distinctly, I remember it was in the bleak December
With year-end data lying around me, piled high upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my org shart full of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore
For the fair and just project sponsor whom the C-Suite called Lenore -
Downsized here for evermore.
And the massive piles of data rustling, of each deadline bustling
Thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some janitor demanding entrance at my office door -
Some late janitor emptying trash from at my office floor -
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,
"Yo!" said I, "You want my waste basket, my trash, and nothing more?
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my office door
That I wasn't sure I heard you" - here I opened wide the door -
Darkness there, and nothing more
Deep into cubicles peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing
Doubting things no mortal project manager did before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token
And my thoughts of project sponsors lost made me whisper, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and cubicles echoeds back, "Lenore!"
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back to my computer turning, while my CDs still were burning
Soon my email made the tapping sound, much louder than before
"Surely," said I, "email, you ox, something in my Windows in-box
Let me see then, what the message, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this strange email explore -
Tis an email, nothing more!"
Wish I could relive this odd tale, when I opened the strange email
Coming from the pompous head of Division Number Four
No apology nor excuse here, only threats and strengthened fear,
But this email came and perched on my wallpaper of Al Gore -
Perched upon ice caps melting just above my data store -
To be read and nothing more.
Then this simple email filing made my sad fancy into smiling
By the grumpy and the grouchy face unfortunately I wore.
"Though I sit here quite unshaven, over all my data slavin'
Ghastly grim and common email wandering onto my data store -
Tell me what thy purpose!"
Quoth the Scope Creep, "Do some more!"
Startled by my peace now smitten by reply so curtly written
"Doubtless," said I, "what he utters adds upon our project's score
From some sadistic master whose unmerciful disaster
Makes us work faster and harder than we ever did before
Said the email, "Do some more!"
Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To this message which now threatened my performance score
In my chair I sat reclining, here now thinking of resigning
On the messy desktop's shining pile of crap from Division Four
But their manager, his message pressing me like ne'er before -
Quoth the Scope Creep, "Do some more!"
Then I felt the air grow stronger, stinking from durations longer
Made so by unnecessary tasks whose purpose shook my very core
"Jerk!" I cried, "how dare you do this, throw my project scope amiss
Now that I no longer have my fair and just sponsor named Lenore
Why, oh why, this kind of action from my dear and downsized Lenore?"
Quoth the Scope Creep, "Do Some More!"
And the email, never scrolling, all my changes now controlling
On the wallpaper of melting ice caps in honor of Al Gore
And his words have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming
Taunting, haunting me over the shadow of the downsized Lenore
And my sould from out that shadow lies floating on the floor
Shall ne'er be lifted till I do some more.