Psalm 4 Ye Psalm of Apple fan Composed in the queue on the day of release Jobs is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me queue outside his store in Regent Street he leads to crave his tablets of law, he refreshes my purchase. Even when they have been in the shops only a year Even though I walk through the darkest porn site I will fear no virus, for he is with me; his helpful staff, they comfort me. They repair things that were never broken. They pre-order thy tablets for me and tell me not of any problems my cup overflows. Surely Apple’s mobile products will follow me all the days of my life Well at least until next year meanwhile I will camp outside the store of Apple forever. Psalm 4s Ye Psalm of Apple fan Composed in the queue on the night of release My Jobs , my Jobs, why hast thou forsaken me? Why are you so far from serving me, so far from my cries of anguish? My Jobs, I call thy Siri by day, but it only works in the US by night, but I find no rest for the guy in front of me snores Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One; you are the one New York Times praises They place not their trust in Tim Cooke For is he not a fallen iCon And has not thine ideas and genius Did he not outsource all production even unto a Chinese sweatshop? Did he not create the iPhone 4s so that it was like Thou iPhone 4? For only thee we trust and you delivered our iPads And did kill the hated PC For I am a worm and not a man, scorned by everyone, despised by the people. All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads. “He trusts in Jobs,” they say, “let the Jobs deliver him, since he delights in him.” Yet you brought me the iPod; you made me trust in your walled garden of delights Do not be far from me, for the end of the queue is near and the fat bastard behind me pushes Many bullshit artists surround me; the scalpers of Bashan encircle me. They wish to make a fast buck From thy tablets of Joy But I wish to look upon your high res screen of Joy And read the same ebooks that I bought last year a pack of villains encircles me; They divide my credit cards among them But you, JOBS, do not be far from me. Deliver me from Windows, I will declare your name to anyone who will listen; in the comments box I will praise you. All those who do not love you I will curse. Revere him, all you children of Apple! For he has not despised or scorned even though he was dead He hath bought us his Tablets of happiness. Psalm 4SX Ye prayer of Tim Cook All mighty Jobs who art in heaven Thou has passed thy mantle on to me As thou ascended into the heavens. Grant me this day a portion of thine amazing luck So that I might selleth a gadget which is More or less The same as the toy you sold people last year To the glory of your ineffable Share Price Amen.