When I was a girl,
And my PC was a pup,
Over code and programs we'd stray.
Just a girl and her machine,
We were both full of fun,
We grew up together that way.
As the years fast did roll,
My PC, he grew old,
His eyes were fast growing dim.
And one day the doctor looked at me and said,
"I can do no more for him, Grace".
With hands that were trembling,
I picked up my gun,
And aimed it at the PCs faithful head.
I just couldn't do it, I wanted to run,
I wish they would shoot me instead.
It blinked its cursor and looked up at me,
And laid his keyboard on my knee.
I had struck the best friend a girl ever had,
I cried so I scarcely could see.
Old Shep, he has gone where the good PCs go
And no more with old Shep will I code.
But if PCs have a heaven, there's one thing I know,
Old Shep has a wonderful home.