Davis Freeberg’s Digital Connection

The sockets were open, to the internet with care,
In hopes that St. DivX soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of torrents danced in their heads;

Mamma with her ‘dial up, and cable’s internet cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,

When out of the innerweb, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my ZZZ’s to see what’s the matter.

Away to computer, I flew like a flash,
Tore open my network, before my Window’s PC could crash.

The files that appeared, in the monitor’s glow
Gave the lustre of completion to the videos below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature video file from eight tiny mirrors,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment, it must be St. DivX!

More rapid than the video store, his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now, Wedding Crashers! now, Dirty Dancers! now, Tropic of Cancer and Wrestling Vixens!
On, Bill Haley and the Comets! on Two Gun Cupid! on, Donner’s Pass and Mp3 Blitzes!

To the top of the pirate’s bay! to the top of my hall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

As subpoenas before the RIAA fly,
When you meet with an obstacle, blame the neighbor’s WiFi,

So up to my desktop the coursers they flew,
With a tray full of videos, and St. DivX too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of the MPAA’s burden of proof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. DivX came with a frown.

He was dressed in encryption, from his head to his foot,
But his clothes weren’t all tarnished with DRM soot;

A bundle of codecs he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler unzipping his pack.

His files — how they twinkled! his Warez how binary!
His gifts were ones and zeroes, that made my eyes teary!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
Ready to deliver a holiday message from Sheryl Crow;

The stump of a pipe, he held tight in his teeth,
His smoke encircled the media, just like a sheath;

He had long tail distribution for the little round telly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
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 his work,
And filled up my folders; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the broadband he goes;

He sprang to the web, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a judgment dismissal.