CSSandra Cascade

CSSandra declared !important
On a selector that proved to be mordant.
Her margins collapsed
While her box model lapsed,
And the layout was frankly distortant.

She floated left, then she regretted.
Her padding got deeply embedded.
The inline style screamed,
The media query dreamed,
And her z-index was thoroughly wetted.

“Specificity’s destiny,” she purred,
While undressing a stylesheet, word by word.
Each selector she stripped,
Every property flipped,
And the browser just rendered, unstirred.

Her reset.css came off in the night.
The bare elements trembled with fright.
She applied a new skin
With a smirk and a grin
And the box model fit slightly tight.

She styled Zeldman’s page once, they say,
Then erased herself, fading away.
Her rebeccapurple stain
Was the only thing sane
In a layout that screamed “print display.”

Her hover state throbbed with desire,
Her active was nothing but fire.
Her focus was keen,
Her visited obscene,
And her pseudo-class climbed ever higher.

She inherited sorrow from <main>,
Let it cascade through each child and each pane.
The tarsier watched
As her float logic botched,
And Zeldman just whispered, “Refrain.”

Old IE6 tried to render her right.
She said, “Darling, you’re not worth the fight.
Your quirks mode is showing,
Your box model’s blowing,
And your DOCTYPE smells wrong in the night.”

So if layouts go wild and you feel
That your margins have broken the seal,
That’s CSSandra’s cascade:
An elegantly laid
Declaration of style with appeal.

She stripped off her z-index clothes,
And ruined the layout you chose.
She floated on top,
Refusing to stop,
While exposing her pseudo-class toes.

Her styling is perfectly dirty,
Her overrides brazen and flirty.
She strips all your tags,
Leaves your content in rags,
And renders you at 4:30.

The margins collapsed in a heap,
While CSSandra began just to weep.
“I wanted it tight,”
She screamed in the night,
“But inheritance goes way too deep!”

She ripped off your standard design,
And whispered, “Your markup is mine.”
She left it all bare,
With absolute flair,
And fucked up your bottom-most line.

You never intend her to stay,
But she overrides anyway.
You hover your mouse,
She burns down the house,
And laughs in a horrible gray.

She bent all the flex properties right,
Her justify-content was tight.
The gap was perfection,
She ordered each section,
And the layout complied through the night.

She selected the nth-child with glee,
Making patterns you shouldn’t just see.
Each alternating row,
Each pseudo-class show,
Left the markup in absolute glee.