The Rime of the Help Desk Coordinator

PART I

A help desk coordinator,
He answereth one of three.
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore answer’d thou me?

The help desk phones are ringing wide,
And I am next in queue;
The lights all red, the network dead:
May'st hear the merry din.'

He holds him phone in hand,
'There was a ticket,' quoth he.
'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

He holds him with his glittering eye—
The support team stood still,
And listens like a three years' child:
The coordinator hath his will.

The support team sat on their chairs:
They cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The helpdesk coordinator.

'The new server cheered, the install cleared,
Merrily did we drop
A T10 line, below the floor,
Below the shop floor desks.

The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of his cave came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went back into his cave.

Fuller and fuller every day,
Till the servers full by noon—'
The coordinator here beat his breast,
For everyone had left for a smoke break.