Twas the night before Syncmas, when all through the swarm Not a device was syncing, not even a first-gen RPi. The folders were shared to the laptop with care, In hopes the next delta update soon would be there.
The hashes were nestled all snug in their databases, While versions of files danced around data races. And calmh with his Macbook and nutomic with his Android, Had just settled their brains; a bikeshed to avoid.
When out on the WAN there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the idle loop to see what was the matter. Away to the discosrv I flew like a flash, Spun up the TLS session and offered a hash.
The new device from the fresh-queried list, Languished with double-NAT, hiss. When, what to my dialer function should appear, But a mass of relay runners, and eighty lovely peers.
With a little curt from Audrius, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be another user adding a question in the damn tracker, CLOSED #65535 SRSLY READ THE TEMPLATE GEESH. And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name! And they still didn’t read the template! Geesh!
“Now Zillode!, now, canton7!, now calmh and Audrius! On, kozec! On, wweich! on, on rumpelsepp and imsodin! To the top of the index! to the top of the I/O calls! Now sync away! Sync away! Sync away all!”
I have been instructed by my Attorney never to publish my poetry, or my butchering of others’, ever again. But he doesn’t look here so I should be safe.