The good old days. In the good old days, A computer, was something on TV, From a science fiction show, of note, A window, was some thing you hated to clean, And a ram, was cousin of a goat, Meg, was the name of my girl friend, And a gig, was a job for the nights, Now they all mean different things, And that really mega bites, An application, was for employment, A programme, was a TV. show, A curser, used profanity, And a key board, was a piano, Memory, was something you lost with age, A CD. was a bank account, And if you had a three inch floppy, You hope no body, found out, Compress, was some thing you did to the garbage, Not some thing you did to a file, And if you unzipped something,in public, You could end up in jail for a while, Log on, was adding wood to the fire, And hard drive, was a long trip up the road, A mouse pad, was were a mouse lived, And a back up, happened to your commode, Cut, you did with a pocket knife, Paste, you did with glue, A web, was a spiders home, A virus, was the flu, I guess I'll just stick to my pad, and paper, And the memory, in my head, I hear no one has been killed in a computer crash, But when it happens, they wish they were dead, By poet unknown.