Remember when the racket,
Of the horseless carriage,
Gasoline and oil making,
An uneasy marriage.

Ladies had to lift their skirts,
And run. chickens flew,
When those youngins,
Drove wildly through town.

And roll over, Alexander Bell.
The Missus on the crank phone,
That drat party line operator,
Spreading gossip here to Nome.

It aint safe fer a man to fly.
In one of them jet planes in the sky.
Theys sure to come apart and fall.
Ill take the train in leisurely style,
Beat that plane by a country mile.

Dont need no personal computer,
Pencil and paper works just fine for me.
Mailman is always on time with the mail.
Dont need no other contraption, see.

What is up with these kids these days?
Walking with the phone to their ear.
No friendly conversations I hear,
Just them talking into space, I swear.

I used to look forward to waiting time,
Strike a new conversation,
With a stranger waiting in line.

But now they all have their nose,
In their smart lonely pasttime,
Texting their hearts out,
Without reason or rhyme.

Wonder what they will think,
of newfangled things?
When they grow older and wiser,
And their AI acquaintance rings?