Abort, Retry, Ignore

Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary, 
System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor 
Longing for the warmth of bedsheets, 
Still I sat there, doing spreadsheets; 
Having reached the bottom line, 
I took a floppy from the drawer. 
Typing with a steady hand, then invoked the SAVE command 
But I got a reprimand: it read "Abort, Retry, Ignore." 

Was this some occult illusion? Some maniacal intrusion? 
These were choices Solomon himself had never faced before. 
Carefully, I weighed my options. 
These three seemed to be the top ones. 
Clearly I must now adopt one: 
Choose "Abort, Retry, Ignore." 

With my fingers pale and trembling, 
Slowly toward the keyboard bending, 
Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored, 
Praying for some guarantee 
Finally I pressed a key-- 
But on the screen what did I see? 
Again: "Abort, Retry, Ignore." 

I tried to catch the chips off-guard-- 
I pressed again, but twice as hard. 
Luck was just not in the cards. 
I saw what I had seen before. 
Now I typed in desperation 
Trying random combinations 
Still there came the incantation: 
Choose: "Abort, Retry, Ignore." 

There I sat, distraught exhausted, by my own machine accosted 
Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor. 
And then I saw an awful sight: 
A bold and blinding flash of light-- 
A lightning bolt had cut the night and shook me to my very core. 
I saw the screen collapse and die 
"Oh no--my data base," I cried 
I thought I heard a voice reply, 
"You'll see your data Nevermore!" 

To this day I do not know 
The place to which lost data goes 
I bet it goes to heaven where the angels have it stored 
But as for productivity, well 
I fear that IT goes straight to hell 
And that's the tale I have to tell 
Your choice: "Abort, Retry, Ignore."