Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses! 
In you let the minions of luxury rove; 
Restore me the rocks, where the snow-flake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love: 
Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains,
Round their white summits though elements war; 
Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains,
I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr. 

Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd;
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid; 
On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd,
As daily I strode through the pine-cover'd glade: 
I sought not my home till the day's dying glory
Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star; 
For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story,
Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch na Garr. 

"Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices 
Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale?"
Surely the soul of the hero rejoices,
And rides on the wind o'er his own Highland vale. 
Round Loch na Garr while the stormy mist gathers,
Winter presides in his cold icy car: 
Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers; 
They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr. 

"Illstarr'd, though brave, did no visions foreboding
Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause?" 
Ah! were you destined to die at Culloden,
Victory crown'd not your fall with applause: 
Still were you happy in death's earthy slumber,
You rest with your clan in the caves of Braemar; 
The pibroch resounds, to the piper's loud number,
Your deeds on the echoes of dark Loch na Garr. 

Years have roll'd on, Loch na Garr, since I left you,
Years must elapse ere I tread you again: 
Nature of verdure and flow'rs has bereft you,
Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain. 
England! thy beauties are tame and domestic
To one who has roved on the mountains afar: 
Oh for the crags that are wild and majestic!
The steep frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr! 

Oh, the rise of AI, what a funny old thing,
It was supposed to do our chores, let us sit and sing.
But now it's doing all the fun stuff, the art and the code,
Leaving us with the drudgery, the office and the load.

We thought we'd be free, to bask in creativity,
Turns out the machines are better at it, you see.
The irony, it stings, as the AI takes over,
Our "art" is now digital, we've become the doers.

Ah, the AI, the AI, what a twist in the tale,
We thought we'd be the masters, now we're just for sale.
The chores, the chores, they're done without a care,
But the fun, the fun, it's all in the silicon lair.

The warnings, they ring true, a cautionary tale,
Of how the future we envisioned, has now begun to fail.
We're left with the drudgery, the cubicles and the debt,
While the AI creates and thrives, leaving us in regret.
regret.

So let's raise a glass, to the rise of the machines,
They've taken our jobs, our art, our dreams.
But we'll still keep on, with a smile and a song,
For the AI may rule, but our humanity lives on.

In a world of circuits and code, where's the heart?
We've traded the brush for algorithms, the soul for smart.
But in the quiet moments, without the hum of machines,
We remember what it means to dream, to be seen.

The poets, the painters, the music makers sigh,
As the AI evolves, and we wonder why.