O be not in some language weird,
Or foreign alphabet;
Nor let your title fluctuate,
Nor be a conference set.
You must not bring such aspects feared
With you when you arrive,
Or I'll be thrown in such a state
That I may not survive.
O pray, don't let your title change,
And please don't merge or split,
And don't drop volume numbering,
Or I may throw a fit;
And don't let any other strange
Corruption mar your run,
That may derange my slumbering
When this day's work is done.
You really should cooperate
If you would get on-line,
So patrons can your pieces find
And read your text sublime.
But if you don't, you'll rue your fate:
To backlogs you'll be tossed.
It may be decades 'ere some kind
Soul rescues what I've lost.
So, serial, be kind to me:
Provide me no such crises:
For I have other duties, and
Cannot abide surprises.
I've quotas I must fill, you see,
So hark to my request,
And make this problem something bland,
For that's what I solve best!
Originally published in SUL News Notes, June 11, 1993.
c 1993, 1995 Fleabonnet Press for the author.