On a late Sunday evenin',
At a start-up out of runway,
I sat next to The Greybeard,
We were both too tired to weep.
So we took turns a-sighin'
As the errors rolled from Jenkins,
'Til ennui overtook him
And he began to speak.
He said, "Grrl, I've made a life
Out of savin' founders' bacon,
Smellin' trouble brewin'
'Fore the pinks slips start to fly.
By the green hue of your skin-tone,
I can see you called your options
If you'll walk me down the hall-way,
I'll give you some advice."
So we headed to the break-room
And he kicked my butt at foos-ball,
Then opened up the drink-'fridge
And slammed a Mountain Dew.
Then the place got almost quiet
Once we set our phones to "vibrate."
He said, "If you wanna make the rent, grrl,
This is what you got to do."
[Chorus]
"You got to know when to ship it,
Know when to slip it,
Know when to refactor,
When to let things stand.
You never work ev'ry weekend
If the CEO's not there, too.
There'll be time enough for workin'
When the Round A lands."
"Now, ev'ry Greybeard knows,
That the secret to the pay-off
Is knowin' that ideas mean jack
When your team can't see them through.
'Cause every app. is Facebook
And every app. is Friendster,
And the best that you can hope for
Is your VCs know it, too."
And when he'd finished speakin'
He ordered up an Uber,
Buffed his LinkedIn resume,
Tossed his work-badge in the trash.
And once at his next start-up,
The Greybeard hit the jackpot.
But in his parting words I'd found
Advice that I could cash.
[Repeat chorus three times]
