By Bob Smith.
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The human race’s in the control
O buttons an technology
Young fowk canna git a jobbie
There’s bugger aa fer them ti dee
The button on the TV remote
His life become a farce?
Ti turn the TV on an aff
Nae need ti move yer arse
Buttons on the factory fleer
Mair robots on assembly line
The workforce eence in hunners
Micht noo be jist forty nine
Nae need fer sae mony bunk tellers
Fan siller ye wint ti withdraw
Jist touch a fyow wee buttons
O the machine in the hole in the wa
Press the PC start button
Info at eence ye’ll access
E’en pyein yer accoonts online
Is classed as total progress
The buttonie on a hairst combine
Leaves ae mannie noo in control
Fairm workers aa oot o wark
Nae langer oan the peyroll |
A wee button ye maan punch
Afore crossin a richt busy street
The green mannie he tells ye
Faan ti stairt usin yer feet
The bricht radar screen on a trawler
Tells the skipper fan he’s near fish
Nae winner the stocks are fair drappin
It’s nae langer a hit or a miss
The purveyors o new technology
Tell us oor lives are noo gran
As lang as ye hit a wee button
Wi ae digit attached ti yer haun
Hid the Luddites the richt idea
Fin smashin up looms mechanised?
Maybe they saw inti the future
As jobs noo are fair prized
Thon mannie Albert Einstein said
In a batch o wirds fair minimal
“Technological progress is like an aix
In the haun’s o a pathological criminal”
A fyow rows o buttons I div like
Are eens on a gweed “squeeze- box”
Press its buttons aa ye like
Accordion music it fair rocks |
© Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie”2012
Image credit: © Phil Date | Dreamstime.com
