Driving Miss Royal

There once was a writer named Royal,
To her keys and her carriage so loyal.
She knew how to white-out,
Wrote poems with the light out,
She really was quite a smart goyal.

Our Royal could type like a racer;
No one in sight could out pace her.
She typed with great speed
And never did need
Even a tiny eraser.

But poor Royal was out making copies
When they came with the wires and floppies.
A computer they brought her
And said that she oughta
Start learning or go and plant poppies.

So Royal met up with a cursor
And her life just got worser and worser.
In spite of her wiles
She lost all her files
And spoke in words terser and terser.

Our writer friend couldn't believe
That software could novels retrieve.
Her disks she would whack
With alas and alack
And for her lost typewriter grieve.

For many 'tis ever so tiring
To figure out manuals and wiring.
But our Royal's a leader,
A mystery reader,
In days she was back in there firing.

Now Royal performs any feat
With options, escape, and delete.
She does her off-loading
With no more foreboding
And menus for her are a treat.

And now for the rest of the news:
Royal is off on a cruise.
From her PC
She gets efficiency.
There's gold in them there CPU's!


©Camille Minichino 1989