{with apologies to Walt Whitman--who would have hated spammers}
O Spammer! my Spammer! thy fearful deed is done!
This group has taken all your crap, you've had your little fun.
Your spam is here, your greed is clear, your presence is revolting.
And in my eyes you are a heel, so your actions I'm reporting.
The netiquette you
won't obey
Has roused me to a
fury.
If I had my way
you'd spend your days
Confessing to a
jury.
O Spammer! damned Spammer! drop dead and go to Hell!
Drop dead--for you the grave is dug--for you Death rings out its knell.
You know the hatred of this group is something you've been earning,
And if we ever hunt you down in a bonfire you'll be burning!
Hear Spammer!
damned spammer!
What I have
planned for you!
I'm getting your
account shut down
And there's
nothing you can do!
My Spammer does not answer, his screen sits dark and
still.
He's off the Net, he's in a mess, his actions were illegal.
I have tracked him to his lair, and found his e-mail address,
And sent it to his postmaster, who revoked his network access!
Exult, O group,
and sing, O Net
His spamming days
are done!
And how much would
you like to bet
He isn't having
fun?
(Okay, as poems go this bites. At least it bites spammers.)
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Last modified: April 10, 2006