Twas the night before Christmas And all through the shop The CNC's were running, even the Haas The parts were hanging by the chimney with care Is hopes that the cleaning fluid would dry by air The tools were nestled all snug in their drawers Some Criterions in holders and ready to bore The employees were home filled with Christmas cheer While I was still feeding parts, the only one here When out in the shop there arose a screeching chatter I sprang from the computer to see what's the matter Away to the Fadal I flew like a flash Opened the doors to prevent a crash The coolant had stopped and loaded the cutter I hit the red button as smooth as butter The part was saved with a cutter comp edit Machine was fine and it started no sweat Looking around, the shop machines were humming Which was great since the due date was coming On Haas on Mori on Makino and Kitamura On Fadal on Okuma on Hurco and Matsuura They're the babies that bring in the bucks And make Christmas possible for some of us schmucks I was humming to myself as I walked out of sight Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night (BB 12/11/09)
"John R. Carroll" wrote in news:se6dnRUHBbIlf7 _WnZ2dnUVZ snipped-for-privacy@giganews.com:
The Night Before Christmas by Richard Tater 'Twas the day before Christmas when I dropped by the shop To change out a part I was running for 10 grand a pop.
I lowered the blank by the jib crane with care Another minute or two and I'd soon be out of there.
The blank was clamped all snug to the bed, While visions of profits danced in my head And I changed out the chip barrel quick as a snap Then was about to give the green button a tap, When out by the dumpster there arose such a clatter I sprang from my mill to see what was the matter.
Away to the loading dock I flew like a flash I tore open the door and looked toward the trash.
The winter's sun hung in the sky so low That it gave a harsh glare to the objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a beat up old Saab and a disheveled little queer, With a greasy shirtsleeve he wiped his infected honker, I knew in a moment it must be Jonny Bonker.
More rapid than eagles his curses they came, And he muttered and nuttered and dropped name after name. Now, Mastercam, now BobCrap, and Featurecam are all shit, But HSM works, with my brilliant help, will be a big hit. Bill Gibbs is a pussy, Tom Brewer's mother's a w**re!
After I scavenge this dumpster I'm, gonna make war! As cut chips before an air gun do fly, When they meet with an object they mount to the sky. So up to the dumpster-top the curser he flew, To search for pizza crusts and demo disks amid all the goo
And then in a twinkling, I heard from the junk; "Goddamn John Carroll is a worthless old drunk!" I needed a weapon and was turning around, when up from the refuse Jon leapt with a bound.
He was dressed in a uniform and from what I could tell the king of CAD/CAM is an employee of Taco Bell! A garbage bag from the cafeteria he had flung across his back, And he looked like a peddler opening his pack.
His eyes - how they sparkled, his find made him merry! His teeth were like tombstones, his nose a rotten cherry. His foul little mouth was like that of a toad, he had a complexion like five miles of bad road.
The stump of a pizza crust he clenched tight in his teeth, while the stench of homelessness encircled him like a wreath. He had a drawn face with boils full of pus, that oozed green liquid as he started to fuss. He looked crazy insane, his normal old self, And I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to work, And filled his briefcase with his pickings, then he turned with a jerk.
And laying a finger well up in his nose, Then gave it a lick while up from his knees he rose. He sprang to the Saab which wheezed to life with a whistle And away he flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight "Wait until WESTEC all, where there will be a big fight!"
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