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Twas the night before DoSing Bitbender, when all through the site
Not a creature was stirring, not even a squirrel;
The circuit attack plans were hung by the modem which was bright,
In hopes that bitbender soon would logout of sight;

The posters were nestled all snug in their chairs,
While visions of red squirrels danced in their heads;
And papabits by his BBQ, and I running up the stairs,
He just fired it up and shot me a few leads,

When out on the server there arose such an auto DDoS,
I sprang from the keyboard to see what was the matter.
Away to the workstation I called CATS the boss,
Tore away the Ethernet cables from the router.

The BSOD on the breast of the new-appeared error
Gave Bitbender's server mid-night of extra uptime
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a disregarded attack, and the saved butt of mine.

With a little more connecting, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment They must be SCSI
in Bitbender's server as I watch my cursor blink
And suddenly I send the packet, and up on his screen shouted

"HOW ARE YOU GENTLEMEN!
ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US.
YOU ARE ON YOUR WAY TO DESTRUCTION.
YOU HAVE NO CHANCE TO SURVIVE
MAKE YOUR TIME."

As dry peanuts that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with a squirrel using Linux, mount like SCSI,
So up to the rack-top the servers they worked,
With the router successfully routing packets, and papabits session cookie too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the raid
The clicking and chirring of many hard disks.
As I clicked on my keyboard, and was glad the DOS was delayed
Down the datacentre, the winter storm hits.

It caused Texas to look like Timmins, snow from everyone's head to foot,
And the roads were slippery, causing everyone to stay put;
A bundle of snow that had flung on everyone's knee,
And they looked like robots just closing their A/C.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his guns how merry!
His cheeks were like robotic, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of used .50 rounds he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when bitbender laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old user,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of him thinking I was a looser;
A wink of his eye and a click of his mouse,
Soon gave me to know I had no reason to pounce;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And loaded all the guns then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his trigger,
And giving a nod, I dodged his fire;

He sprang to his computer, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"FRIED RED SQUIRREL IN THE ADULT LOUNGE AT MIDNIGHT!"