The Ravin'

Once upon a midnight dreary
As I pondered, growning bleary,
On the newsgroup bright and cheery
Which I'd visited before
Suddenly there rent the aether
Another spammer, seeking fees for
Selling us the self-same secrets
He had bought the day before
Yes, another sucker-seeker
Broadcasting a deafening roar:
   "MAKE CASH FAST!" -- oh, what a bore.

"Fool," I muttered, glum conceding
That the cost we pay for reading
Mail and posts most worth the heeding
Sent to real or virtual door
Is that some deluded punk
Will stuff our mailbox with such junk
Although by now you woulda thunk
They'd seen this game and learned the score
But after twenty paper copies
What difference makes just one more
   "MAKE CASH FAST" thrown on the floor? 

But then came a second flamer
Calling spammers every name or
Adjective that he could claim from
His vocabularic store
Not content to send this flier
To the object of his ire
He then built a funeral pyre --
And lept upon it, furthermore:
For he copied this new missive
To all the groups upon whose shore
   Fell "MAKE CASH FAST" -- which grieves me sore.

Friends, it must not be forgotten
That those broadcasts, rude and rotten
Which are oftentimes our lot in
Reading favorite newsgroups o'er
Don't deserve an answer posted
Even with their authors toasted
By a self-styled cop, who boasted
"They shall rue this spamming, sure"
For the grumbling that _you_ broadcast
Following that spammer's spoor
   Is a Spam, and nothing more!