I thought, at first,
that it was playing childish games –
calling me names
made up of hieroglyphs and runes,
and playing tunes
that burble like a goblin’s song –
but I was wrong. The thing’s accurst.
It spends the day
devising spiteful means whereby
it may defy
all simple, civilised requests.
It never rests,
but sneers and sniggers all night through.
It will not do a thing I say.
Well, let it scoff.
Sure, let it have its bit of fun
and think it’s won.
It’s got a nasty shock in store
and, what is more,
tonight’s the night. Here is my plan:
I’ll turn its anti-virus off.