But I love things that whirr, and things that hum.
A machine with too many gears and too many parts,
Is something I revere in my heart of hearts.
It's not at all suspect, in fact it's quite clear
When that thing there hits this thing here
One part goes clonk so that another goes clink
Which leads to a bonk so I don't have to think.
Machines these days are way too small,
How to know if they work at all?
If it erks 'n' jerks on a molecular scale,
With what size hammer do I smash it when it fails?
How am I to be a handy type of dandy man,
With objects that fi in the palm of my hand?
I love to grind, to tinker and to strive,
But this machine thinks and it's not even alive!
So back to the old school, with rust dust and levers
I remain with no shame the most ardent reverer
Down with the scientific witchery of present day
Who do modern engineers think they are anyway?
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