Hear that buzzword buzz, AI's the talk of the town
Promises of the future, but the truth's getting drowned
In a sea of hype and marketing schemes
Is this the revolution, or just empty dreams?
Let's peel back the layers, and see what's really there
Before we get swept up, in the AI fanfare.

Got a brand new app, says it's AI powered
Walk in the store, grab some chips, feelin' empowered
No lines to wait in, futuristic and sleek
Just scan and go, ain't gotta speak

But hold on a sec, somethin' don't feel quite right
This magic cashier, seems a little too light
Is it really AI, or just a fancy name?
For a regular system, playin' a marketing game?

Companies braggin', about their AI this and that
Chatbots and filters, where's the real tech at?
Investors confused, trust starts to erode
Who's the real innovator, on this techy road?

Hold on a sec, somethin' don't feel quite right
This magic solution, seems a little too light
Is it really AI, or just a fancy name?
For a regular system, playin' a marketing game?

Regulators steppin' in, crackin' down on the hype
Fines and sanctions, for those who ain't bein' quite type
The truth will come out, the fake will fade away
Real innovation, will see the light of day

AI is powerful, but let's use it with care
Not a magic bullet, a tool we all share
So let's be honest, and use it right
For a future that's bright, with technology's light

In the outer Barcoo where the churches are few,
And men of religion are scanty,
On a road never cross'd 'cept by folk that are lost,
One Michael Magee had a shanty.

Now this Mike was the dad of a ten-year-old lad,
Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned;
He was strong as the best, but poor Mike had no rest
For the youngster had never been christened.

And his wife used to cry, 'If the darlin' should die
Saint Peter would not recognise him.'
But by luck he survived till a preacher arrived,
Who agreed straightaway to baptise him.

Now the artful young rogue, while they held their collogue,
With his ear to the keyhole was listenin',
And he muttered in fright while his features turned white,
'What the divil and all is this christenin'?'

He was none of your dolts, he had seen them brand colts,
And it seemed to his small understanding,
If the man in the frock made him one of the flock,
It must mean something very like branding.

So away with a rush he set off for the bush,
While the tears in his eyelids they glistened —
"Tis outrageous,' says he, 'to brand youngsters like me,
I'll be dashed if I'll stop to be christened!'

Like a young native dog he ran into a log,
And his father with language uncivil,
Never heeding the 'praste' cried aloud in his haste,
'Come out and be christened, you divil!'

But he lay there as snug as a bug in a rug,
And his parents in vain might reprove him,
Till his reverence spoke (he was fond of a joke)
'I've a notion,' says he, 'that'll move him.'

'Poke a stick up the log, give the spalpeen a prog;
Poke him aisy — don't hurt him or maim him,
'Tis not long that he'll stand, I've the water at hand,
As he rushes out this end I'll name him.

'Here he comes, and for shame! ye've forgotten the name —
Is it Patsy or Michael or Dinnis?'
Here the youngster ran out, and the priest gave a shout —
'Take your chance, anyhow, wid 'Maginnis'!'

As the howling young cub ran away to the scrub
Where he knew that pursuit would be risky,
The priest, as he fled, flung a flask at his head
That was labelled 'Maginnis's Whisky!'

And Maginnis Magee has been made a J.P.,
And the one thing he hates more than sin is
To be asked by the folk who have heard of the joke,
How he came to be christened 'Maginnis'!