Smile no so sweet, my Bonnie Babe: And you smile me so sweet, you’ll smile me dead. She’s taken out her own little awl And pulled the metal from her sweet Babe’s head. She’s lit a fire by the light of the night moon And there she’s melted her sweet babe in. As she was going to the forge She saw a sweet babe in the porch. Oh, sweet babe, if you were mine I’d clad you in the metal so fine. Oh, Mother dear, when I was thine, You didn’t prove to me so kind. O cursed mother, this land is full And it’s here that you will no longer dwell. O cursed mother, Shull is empty Go there now, cursed empty shell. Olam The feeling of fear in the stadium was electric: it was a static charge building up in the jolting, clanking crowd of robots, threatening to earth itself in a runaway crackle of panic. ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ said the robot next to Olam. ‘They need us because they’re going straight on to attack Turing City: they’ll have to enlist every robot they can.’ Olam eyed the robot with a dislike that was momentarily stronger than the fear that currently ran through him.
