Twas the night before migration, when all through ‘brary Not a creature was stirring, not even Homeless Harry. The doors were all locked and the reading room bare, In hopes the IT department soon would be there. The good books were nestled all snug on their carts, They seemed random to those without library smarts. With Starbucks in hand, the IT crew stood tall, The director had retired to sleep through it all. When up at the front desk there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the server room to see what was the matter. Away from my command …