Two Digits for a Date: (to the tune of "Gilligans Island) 
       
       Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, 
       Of the doom that is our fate,
       That started when programmers used 
       Two digits for a date.
       Two digits for a date.
       
       Main memory was smaller then;
       Hard disks were smaller, too.
       "Four digits are extravagant,
       So let's get by with two.
       So let's get by with two."
       
       "This works through nineteen-ninety-nine," 
       The programmers did say,
       "Unless we rewrite before that, 
       It all will go away.
       It all will go away."
       
       But Management had not a clue:
       "It works fine now, you bet!
       A rewrite is a great expense;
       We won't do it just yet.
       We won't do it just yet."
       
       Now, when two thousand rolls around, 
       It all goes straight to hell,
       For zero's less than ninety-nine, 
       As anyone can tell.
       As anyone can tell.
       
       The mail won't bring your pension check, 
       It won't be sent to you
       When you're no longer sixty-eight, 
       But minus thirty-two.
       But minus thirty-two.
       
       The problems we're about to face 
       Are frightening, for sure.
       And reading every line of code's 
       The only certain cure.
       The only certain cure.
       
       [key change, big finish]
       There's not much time,
       There's too much code.
       (And COBOL-coders, few.)
       When the century is finished with, 
       We may be finished, too.
       We may be finished, too.
       
       Eight thousand years from now I hope 
       That things weren't left too late,
       And people aren't then lamenting 
       Four digits for a date.
       Four digits for a date.
  
  
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