Have you heard of the wonderful human brain
That arose by Chance and out of pain
It has run for millennia to this day,
And now, of a sudden -- ah, but stay,
I'll tell you what happened without delay,
Scaring the pundits into fits,
Frightening people out of their wits, --
Have you ever heard of that, I say?

Now in evolving brains, I tell you what,
There is always somewhere a weakest spot, --
In neuron, synapse, cell, or skin,
In nerve, or vein, without, within
In Rolando's fissure or cranium bone
It is lurking always, 'neath the stone,
Find it somewhere you must and will, --
Above or below, or within or without, --
And that's the reason, beyond a doubt,
A brain breaks down, but don't wear out.

But a Pundit swore (as Pundits do,
With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell yeou")
To build a robot brain to beat the taown
N' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun';
It should be so built that it could n' break daown:
"Fur," said the Pundit, "'t 's mighty plain
Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain;
'N' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain,
Is only jest
T'make that place uz strong uz the rest."

So the Pundit inquired of the Engineer folk
Where he could find the strongest oak,
That was for cell walls, and red corpuscles;
Which in his robot took the place of muscles;
The optic nerve was pure titanium,
The eyeballs of glass, lapped to perfection,
Optically figured - needing no correction;
The medulla was molded of poly-styrene, --
With vinyl axons - all stained green.

Parietal lobe, white nerve, too
Cerebellum, linchpin, bolt and screw,
Corpus callosum, the Pons and a gland
I tell you this robot's brain was grand
Veins of the finest, bright and blue;
Housed in a vault that was thick and wide;
And covered outside with buffalo hide
Found in the pit when the tanner died.
That was the way he "put her through."
"There!" said the Pundit, "naow she'll dew!"

Do! I tell you, I rather guess
She was a wonder, and nothing less!
Child turned man, beards turned gray,
Pundit and Pundit-ness dropped away,
Children and grandchildren – reg'lar as rain
But ever there functioned that stout robot brain
As fresh as on its birthing day!

Nineteen Eighty came and found
The Pundit's masterpiece strong and sound.
Nineteen Eighty increased by ten; --
"Neural Plasticity" they called it then.
Nineteen hundred and Ninety came; --
Running as usual; much the same.
The Millenium was the next to arrive,
And then Two Thousand, to which plus five.

Little of all we value here
Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year
Without both feeling and looking queer.
In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know, but a tree and truth.
(This is a moral that runs at large;
Take it. -- You're welcome. -- No extra charge.)

First of September -- the Anniversary day, --
There are traces of age that have come its way,
A general flavor of mild decay,
But nothing local, as one may say.
There couldn't be, -- for the Engineer's art
Had made it so like in every part
That there wasn't a chance for one to start.
For the Fissures were just as strong as the cells,
And the auditory nerve still picked up bells,
And the axons though faded, were strong as yore,
And the Parietal Lobe neither less nor more,
And the synapses, hindbrain and also the fore,
Were functioning well and all.. encore!
And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt
In another hour the brain will be worn out!

Twenty-Ninth of September, Two Thousand and Six...
This morning the Pundit is in a fix...
The robot has failed at a game of chess
Against a brain of meat, that made a mess
Of math, and plan, and vinyl parts
And the surpassing skill of the Engineer's Arts

All at once, you see, the robot stood still,
Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill.
First a shiver, and then a thrill,
Then something decidedly like a spill, --
And the Pundit sat down upon a rock,
At half past nine by the meet'n-house clock, --
Just the hour the robot was born
In a long ago lab on a sunny morn.
And what do you think the Pundit found,
When he got up and stared around?
Brain and robot in a heap or mound,
As if all had been to the mill and ground!
You see, of course, if you're not a dunce,
How it went to pieces all at once, --
All at once, and nothing first, --
Just as bubbles do when they burst.

End of the wonderful Robot brain
Logic is logic. No pain, no gain.