Attestation Mole

The Mole cannot see through the dirt,
But it signs off to cover its shirt.
It attests to the fact,
That the form is intact,
While ignoring the structural hurt.

Deep under the visible UI,
The Mole verifies every lie.
It digs through the code,
In a panicked-ass mode,
And waits for the system to die.

It stamps all the papers below,
So the auditors put on a show.
The Mole is a prick,
With a signature trick,
And a total refusal to know.

The mole was attesting the dirt
And wearing a digital shirt
The server was slow
With nowhere to go
We hit the old drive with a squirt

An attestation of mud
Was washing away in the flood
The mole was asleep
The errors were deep
The system collapsed with a thud

We witness the digging of holes
And verify digital moles
The server is dead
The manual read
We’re paying procedural tolls

The mole is incredibly blind
The data was left far behind
We stamp it approved
The failure removed
The logic is out of its mind

The digging is perfectly flat
We leave the whole database at
A state of decay
For many a day
And blame it on somebody’s cat

The pathway is clearly defined,
With documents properly signed.
A vector of human intent,
Is causing the pipeline to bend,
And queries are looping behind.

We measured the volume of dust,
And updated the protocol trust.
The system is feeling quite sad,
Because the new user is bad,
And weeping is strictly unjust.

The mole has attested the tea,
And sorted the leaves in a tree.
The cup is a network device,
Which executes queries on ice,
And prints out the water for free.

The pile of requests on the floor,
Is bigger than ever before.
We stamped it okay,
At the end of the day,
And locked up the archiving door.

The ink on the ledger is old,
A story the elders have told.
The mole is a spirit of law,
That signs with a mythical paw,
While server rooms turn into gold.