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Mama Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Engineers
(Sung to the familiar Willy Nelson tune about Cowboys)
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be engineers
Don't let them fix radars for middle class bucks
Make 'em be cowboys and bikers and such
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be engineers
They'll work overtime and they'll never be home
Not even with someone they love
Engineers ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold
They'd rather give you Dolby Surround than diamonds or gold
Palm pilot on belt loop and high water pants
Every day goes the same way
And if you don't annoy him and he don't complain
He'll probably rewire the house
(Repeat Chorus)
An engineer loves sweaty computer shows and new sci fi movies
Microprocessors and robots and socks that are white
Them that don't know him won't like him and them that do
Sometimes won't know how to take him
He's not weird he's just different and his pride won't let him
Ever be anything other than right

EE Bump . . .

"I see the eigenvalue in thine eye;
I hear the tender tensor of thy sigh.
Bernoulli would have been content to die
Had he but known such a-squared cosine two-phi."
--Stanislaw Lem