Footnote Pallbearer

He carries the truth to the grave,
That the executives wanted to save.
It’s placed at the base,
In a tiny-ass space,
Where nobody bothers to brave.

The context was heavy and dead,
So they shrunk it and threw it to bed.
A footnote so small,
It says nothing at all,
Except that the data has bled.

The Pallbearer lowers the text,
While everyone wonders what’s next.
The asterisk stands
With blood on its hands,
And leaves the reviewer completely perplexed.

The pallbearer carried a note
In the pocket of his digital coat
The footnote was dead
The manual read
We threw the old log in the moat

A footnote of absolute grief
Was printed upon a single leaf
The mourner was sad
The server was mad
The logic was terribly brief

We carry the asterisk down
And walk through the digital town
The data is cold
The backup is old
We wear a procedural frown

The pallbearer started to weep
The index was buried so deep
The error was plain
In digital rain
We really just wanted to sleep

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