the designer

a poem....

The Designer

The designer sat at his drafting·board.

A wealth of knowledge in his head was stored.

Like what can be done on a radial drill

A turret lathe or a vertical mill.

But above all things a knack he had

Of driving gentle machinists completely mad.

So he mused as he thoughtfully scratched his bean

Just how can I make this thing hard to machine?

If I make this body perfectly straight

The job ought to come out first rate.

But t'would be so easy to machine and bore

That it would never make a machinist sore.

So I'll put a compound angle there

And a couple of tapers to make them swear.

Now brass would do for this little gear,

But it's too easy to machine I fear,

So just to make a machinist squeal

I'll have him machine it from tungsten steel.

And I'll put the holes that hold the cap

Down underneath where they can't be tapped

Now if they make this it will be just luck

Because it can't be held with a dog or chuck,

And it can't be drilled, planed nor ground

So I think my design is unusually sound.

He sat back, his plan he surveyed,

The screwiest thing he has ever made

He shouted in glee, success at last.

This cockeyed thing can't even be cast.