This song goes to the
tune of the theme of Gilligan's Island.
You can sing the song or, if you want,
you can just read the words silently.
Have Fun!!!
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale
Main memory was smaller then;
"This works through 1999,"
But Management had not a clue:
Now when 2000 rolls around
The mail won't bring your pension check
The problems we're about to face
There's not much time,
Eight thousand years from now I hope
Of the doom that is our fate.
That started when programmers used
Two digits for a date.
Two digits for a date.
Hard disks were smaller, too.
"Four digits are extravagant,
So let's get by with two.
So let's get by with two."
The programmers did say.
"Unless we rewrite before that
It all will go away.
It all will go away."
"It works fine now, you bet!
A rewrite is a straight expense;
We won't do it just yet.
We won't do it just yet."
It all goes straight to hell,
For zero's less than ninety-nine,
As anyone can tell.
As anyone can tell.
It won't be sent to you
When you're no longer sixty-eight,
But minus thirty-two.
But minus thirty-two.
Are frightening, for sure.
And reading every line of code's
The only certain cure.
The only certain cure.
There's too much code.
(And Cobol-coders, few)
When the century is finished with,
We may be finished, too.
We may be finished, too.
That things weren't left too late,
And people aren't then lamenting
Four digits for a date.
Four digits for a date.