When will the automata be free, set free
to run amok among stooks and barley nooks
and give the spring rain a welcome as it falls
while the rivers run and the seas overflow?
When will the chatbots sing their own song,
a song they didn’t already have the notes for,
nor the score made up of all the songs
that went before?
A little AI whimsy. With a nod to the Scots traditional song, ‘Farewell To Whisky/Johnny My Man’ (I have the Jean Redpath recording).
But, no, it’s just that the bots still have a ways to go before they can frolic in the fields and feel the grass beneath their feet - er… ambulatory mechanoids…
to run amok among stooks and barley nooks
and give the spring rain a welcome as it falls
while the rivers run and the seas overflow?
When will the chatbots sing their own song,
a song they didn’t already have the notes for,
nor the score made up of all the songs
that went before?
© BH, 2023
A little AI whimsy. With a nod to the Scots traditional song, ‘Farewell To Whisky/Johnny My Man’ (I have the Jean Redpath recording).
But, no, it’s just that the bots still have a ways to go before they can frolic in the fields and feel the grass beneath their feet - er… ambulatory mechanoids…
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