The Wreck of the HP 3000
(To the tune of "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" with apologies to Godon
Lightfoot)


The legend lives on from Sun Valley on down
To the coders in South Africa Cape Town
The 3000, it's said, never crashes instead
It's hardly ever known to breakdown.

It was the mainstay of the HP way
With a data base second to none
If the sales reps had tried, on the American side
Why every shop would have had one.

Many a storm it had weathered, 'tis true
Then the cold winds of November blew
People didn't think, they all wanted to drink
The witch of November's strange brew.

From a Cupertino conference room
Came word of the 3000's doom.
The word was a shock, it made lots of folks hot,
Some said sales were starting to boom.

The users complained and the ISV's frowned
But a savior was not to be found
The list had a rant, and some said you can't
Kill a system that is so renowned.

In a musty old hall in Las Cruces
At the "Programmer Analysts' Cathedral"
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each year the 3000 was viable.

The legend's not dead on the Sun Valley farmstead
Nor the Cape Town South Africa woodshed
The 3000, it's said, hasn't quit, but it's dead
Replaced by the A/S 400!

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