HARD DRIVE Give that to me! I'll sort it out! I'll file it away! My job you see! Sometimes I moan. Sometimes I groan. I hum aloud, Your message sown. I know I'm slow and obsolete. It makes you curse and stomp your feet, But I'm not alone in this high tech tower, There's Mother Board and The Family Cards, Programs that run here, want to own nine yards! Who cares what they Enter, I don't give a damn! They'll have to contend with a dim witted RAM. You try to make it easy for me, Defrag and clean me regularly, Aid me with my own kind, externally. I owe it to you, to see this through. My purpose is all I can be! James W. Barnes June 1, 2011