On a doorway in Dover I once stumbled over a programmer wrapped in a sheet This poor prostrate nerd didn’t utter a word as he lay there half-blocking the street “From your face I can see that you work in IT what has brought you to this sorry state?” This poor wretched geek then started to speak and told me his terrible fate Refrain: In the queries we weave, through each join we retrieve, we’re trapped by the indexes we made. But beware the deadlock, it's a dreaded gridlock, where the tables of fate misbehave. As the rollback begins, and transaction log spins, our temp db starts screaming in vain. We’re the ghosts in the rows, where no commit ever shows, lost in deadlocks, forever in chains. Cruel fortune had picked him, as sad deadlock victim. The conflict had left him for dead; for wise men don’t mess with a deadlocked process an incident DBAs dread. “When I’m dead, on my harp I shall play in C sharp” On my terminal, happy I’ll be. I’m going offline to a site that’s divine where all pizza and coffee is free.” Refrain: In the queries we weave, through each join we retrieve, we’re trapped by the indexes we made. But beware the deadlock, it's a dreaded gridlock, where the tables of fate misbehave. As the rollback begins, and transaction log spins, our temp db starts screaming in vain. We’re the ghosts in the rows, where no commit ever shows, lost in deadlocks, forever in chains. Whisper: “Insert into grave select * from poor Dave And put on my gravestone - Raise error! a victim, one time of a deadlocking crime” Then he died with a look of sheer terror.
