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I recently replaced my beeper with a cell phone. It is the first time I have been without a beeper for over twenty years. In honor of this fact, I felt that I owed my long-time companion a farewell

O BEEPER! my Beeper! our fearful trip is done;
Technology has passed you by, the cellular has won;
My call I fear, the bells I hear, the nurses all keep calling,
While follow ears the constant calls, the frequency appalling;

But O heart! heart! heart!
O my tired eyes of red,
Now in the drawer my Beeper lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O BEEPER! my Beeper! rise up and hear the tones;
Rise up—for you the phone has rung—for you the ring-tone drones;
For all the nights you’ve wrecked my sleep—your piercing sound still burning;
For all-night call, the worried moms, their anxious voices yearning;

Here Beeper! Outmoded!
Now thrown beneath my bed;
It is some dream that finally,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Beeper does not vibrate, his transistors are still;
My pager has no batteries, he has no pulse nor will;
The phone is clipped on safe and sound, text messages received;
With cool ring-tones, Verizon phones, will be all that I need;

Exult, I-Phone, and ring, Ma-bell!
With two-year contracts wed,
For in the trash my Beeper lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

My apologies to Walt Whitman.

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Tagged as: Beeper, Humor, Medicine