Digital Gnome
Telephone Help
Internet Ernie
Email Flame
Free Net
Primates and Climates
'Digital Gnome'
Gates is the name, software's the
game
And I possibly own your home
I own everything else it's
completely insane
I'm the ultimate DIGITAL GNOME.
Bill's the name, monopoly's the
game
I'm completely obsessed with a
future
Where the web is for me and nothing
is free
In your cybermall computer.
I'm worth twenty-six billion the
papers say,
More than the Sultan of Brunei
With a million a day in minimum pay
I'm a ve-e-ery interesting guy
I began in a shack at the back of
the track
Paid a pittance to a man for DOS
Showed it round at IBM , did a deal
with them
And the other guy made a loss.
Control of the net's what I wanna
get
Including your personal site
See the system's free, it doesn't
suit me
You must pay for every byte.
My helpers confess the new
browser's a mess
But I want it your only brand
'Cos the ultimate test of my
business finesse
Is to run ev'ry screen in the land.
I write a lot of tripe, I get a lot
of hype
And my product's strictly a loser
But I don't smoke a pipe, I'm a
workaholic type,
And you won't see me down at the
boozer.
Thousands of workers are writing
the words
for my information highway codes
I'm making damn sure that the
internet nerds
Pay to drive on my roads.
With Windows in phones and all the
other clones
I'll just have to be trusted
'Cos what's been forgotten by
website drones
Is monopolies used to get busted.
A year on your net costs nearly
five thousand
While a US local call's free
I think I might raise a few billion
pounds and Acquire control of BT.
A free-for-all internet's a thing
of the past
I consider it sheer perversity
We need so many brains to privatise
fast
I'm buying up Cambridge University.
Gates is the name, obsolescence the
game
And I possibly own your home
I own everything else it's
completely insane
I'm the ultimate DIGITAL GNOME.
© 1997 Rowland Morgan
'Telephone Help'
bee-bee-boo-boo-bee-
bee-bip poop-poop-poop
That's forty-
eight times
bee-bee-boo-boo poop-
bee-bee-bip poop-poop
This'll make it fifty
bee-bee-boo-boo-bee- bee-bip
ring-ring ring-ring
I don't believe
it - Chime.
You've reached World
Software's technical team
OH NO!!!
Hullo, guten tag,
buon giorno
We know our package can
make you scream
And you're itching to get to the
porno.
You probably dialled a hundred
times
Piling curses on our name
But we're all tied up on a couple
of lines
Sorry if that sounds lame.
If the telephone you're using is an
analog one
Please rip it out of the wall
Dealing with losers is not
much fun
And we frankly don't welcome your
call.
If you've digital kit and
must insist
You might as well hit `star`
Clench your fist and join the list
Of callers waiting an hour.
If you've got snags with our
internet servers
Hitting One wouldn't hurt
But we keep track of all you
perverts
`N can print out a list of your
dirt
If you'd like to look at the
rest of our range
And are in possession of cash
Press Two, but opting for
that'd be strange Our stuff is
likely to crash.
If you want to plague us
with why we cost twice
the BBC licence fee
When we sell a quite small
software device
Easily distributed free.
Please recall it's a question of
profit
No public ownership for us
We're in the net for making money
off it
And we charge you for causing a
fuss.
If you're demanding why a
year on the net Costs four thousand
eight
hundred pound When Americans pay
nothing for all they can get Well,
please don't spread it around.
If after all this you can't
take any more And feel like blowing
your
top You could try to exit by
hitting on four But recordings like
me
never stop.
If you're asking yourself how soon
we'll arrive
The approximate answer is never
And as for trouble with Windows 95
You'll certainly wait for ever.
Remember your call is held in a
queue
You'll soon have had your fill
`Cos if waiting this long doesn't
do for you
The charge for this message will.
'Internet Ernie'
I'm INTERNET ERNIE
I do love to journey
By tapping on plastic keys
I can smoke if I like
No one's ever on strike
And I poke in my nose where I please.
From Bophutatswana
To deepest Guyana
I fly at the flick of a finger
I can pop to Nepal
Or nearby Bengal
And if I desire I can linger.
I can check out the span
of a bridge in Iran
with hardly a move of my hand
I get tons of reports
On American sports
and even find things that are banned.
Just last week
I was browsing in Greek
And the other day it was Spanish
When chatting in Russian
I can end the discussion
By simply choosing to vanish.
The other day
I was in Bombay
With no discomfort from heat
It's truly cathartic
To visit the Arctic
If protection from cold is complete.
My flights make no noise
I travel with poise
The police never ask for my papers
Unlike the crowds
That pollute in the clouds
I pay few pence for my capers.
If thereís altercations
In exotic locations
I can escape with the greatest applomb
Because people aren't armed
One cannot be harmed
And I'm never in fear of a bomb.
It's perfect bliss
Gadding round like this
And never being stung by a bug
I've a flying computer
It works like a super-
charged digital Persian rug.
The thing that I've found
Is, to stay on the ground
And fly using cyberspace
Keeps the ozone layer there
Gives the planet a prayer
And a chance to the human race.
I'm INTERNET ERNIE
And I love what I learn
When I search with Excite or Yahoo
The wisdom of ages
the knowledge of sages
just comes to me out of the blue.
I'm INTERNET ERNIE,
without an attorney
and only a single screen
But I range round the globe
In my satin bathrobe
With far greater ease than the Queen.
The one thing I dread
Which screws up my head
With outrage beyond description
Is this monetary con
They want to try on
Of credit card encryption.
My software will crash
Iíll come down with a splash
As my travels become illegal
the answer is clear
if I want to stay here
And continue to fly like an eagle.
Web surfers like me
Who travel for free
Without any fiscal backing
Must dodge financial ruin
And a digital screwing
By rapidly switching to hacking.
© 1997 Rowland Morgan
'Email Flame'
VOICE 1
E-mail friend if you mean what you
write
There's certainly something about
it
The feeling you convey makes me
feel so right
That I wouldn't like to live
without it.
It's a personal question and I
probably shouldn't
Express it in a message this way
I tried to hold back and found that
I couldn't
So I'm hoping it's works out okay.
I've made up my mind and I'm
sending down the wire
The most sensitive question in the
world
You inspire me so much that I have
to inquire
Whether you're a boy or girl.
VOICE 2
Hello hypertext connection this is
just let you know
I'm ignoring your inquiry of last
night
A person's sexual gender is hidden
in their clothes
And sending your inquiry wasn't
right.
VOICE 1
Look, I'm putting the question with
a beating heart
And feelings that are warm and
tender
Put aside netiquette 'n make a
fresh start,
Please let me know your gender.
VOICE 2
The internet's requirements are
known by protocol
And you've had to watch your
manners since then
If you think the rules are written
so that you can break them all
Well, perhaps I shouldn't WRITE to
you again.
VOICE 1
Okay skip the question of man or
woman
You'd better forget what I said.
Instead just act like a real warm
human
And copy me a picture instead.
VOICE 2
Net connection we write letters
just to have a little natter
And avoid any problems like this
When exchanging ideas it really
doesn't matter
Whether I'm a mister or miss.
VOICE 1
Look, give me an answer, lay
yourself bare
I'm ready to load it down
The dial-up mailing connection's
there
'N the hypertext's linked to town.
VOICE 2
Net connection, your inquiry's
something strictly out of line
And it shouldn't really happen on
the e-mail
But I LOVE YOU TOO, so this time
it's fine
And you'd better know the fact is
I'm a FEMALE.
VOICE 1
You flamed me, pal, you flamed me
good
I'm calling up a web-site now
That'll sell me a ticket to your
neighbourhood
So that we can take a wedding vow.
TOGETHER
e-mail flame
e-mail flame
© 1997 Rowland Morgan
'Free Net'
Gather round, children and listen
to me
Talking 'bout a time when the net
was free.
It's commercialised now by greedy
men
One day, you'll make it free again.
What you've got to learn is, it's
just not funny
Trying to make all our knowledge
cost money.
CHORUS: All gather round and listen
to me
We've got to fight for a net that's
free.
A pound-eighty a week for the BBC
Is a price that counts as more or
less free.
Five times that is paid for cable
Trade monopolies charge what
they're able.
Once a popular net cost nil
Now modem squeaks are the ring of a
till.
CHORUS: All gather round and listen
to me
We've got to fight for a net that's
free.
Encryption passion's hardly
surprising
It all boils down to monetarising.
The rush is on to invent a widget
To force to you pay for every
digit.
When did commerce make people wise?
Can trade make what inventors
devise?
CHORUS: All gather round and listen
to me
We've got to fight for a net that's
free.
If we let profits take over the net
The Beeb won't last on the TV set.
If they want to seize our digital
rights
They'll have to accept a tax on
bytes.
They'll see grabbing the net was a
blunder
When we take revenge on all the
plunder.
CHORUS: All gather round and listen
to me
We've got to fight for a net that's
free.
Community finance is how we'll
resist them
Decentralise funds and seize their
system.
Throw out companies that take us
for fools
By sneaking commericals into our
schools.
The vision that founded the BBC
Will live on to build a net that is
free.
CHORUS: All gather round and listen
to me We've got to fight for a net
that's free.
CHORUS: All gather round and listen
to me-e-e (hold) We've got to fight
for a net that's free.
© 1997 Rowland Morgan
'Primates and Climates'
Eight thousand computers a day you
buy
they'd make a stack over two miles
high (@52cm).
A year's computers heaped in piles
could load juggernaut lorries for
20 miles.
This upgrading racket
is costing a packet
by definition you buy too late
cos the day it's delivered it's out
of date.
The industry knows when it hits the
street
processor and software are
obsolete.
All the speed and greed and haste
is leaving a mountain of toxic
waste.
The megaherz added hour by hour
recklessly builds consumption of
power.
Yet the bigger the network gets
the more you're riding cars and
jets
mate, you're a primate
that's changing the climate.
You're getting so lazy,
driving like crazy
when there's a net you can get
if you met on the net
you'd quit the jet set
'n never get wet.
A half-hour connection from london
to leeds
takes a fraction the energy your
car trip needs
one trip in 10 done working on-line
stops burning half
what-milford-haven refines.
Take for example the lottery you
play
it adds to your shopping trips,
surveys say
thirty thousand more a day,
play on the net, send pollution
away.
Ask petrol producers and see what
you hear
you British burn six billion
gallons a year
the internet way, you'd have
nothing to fear.
Why buy travel or holidays by wire
when the jet that you get sets the
ozone-layer-on-fire?
It's gonna mean trouble
if jet flights double
With a click on the mouse you'd fly
round the world
leaving the sky looking pure as a
pearl.
Forget your concorde and mad
supersonics
stay on the ground and use
electronics.
Don't be a petrol monkey
or a polluter flunkey.
Take heavy computing off your desk
make a network link and forget the
rest.
Wanna planet?
Scan it.
Rearrange
the climate change
Let's go clean
with an internet scene.
© 1998 Rowland Morgan
(Sent in by Alan Graham)