³Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Hackers² by Mike Van Pelt Hackers ain't easy to love and they're harder to stand They'd rather play with a gizmo that's made out of sand. Never wear neckties, just old faded levis, And each night begins a new day. You can't understand him, and you won't until The F.B.I takes him away. Mammas, don't let your babies grow up to be hackers. Don't let 'em hack UNIX, if they try, revolt! Don't let 'em eat Twinkies, don't let 'em drink Jolt. Mammas, don't let your babies grow up to be hackers. 'Cause they'll always stay home in their room all alone, Interfaced to their silicon love. Hackers like frigid machine rooms and bleary eyed mornings Little warm RAM chips and things that go 'beep' in the night. Them that don't know him won't trust him and them that do trust him to unleash a virus. He ain't bad or amoral, but his pride won't let him * turn back from an elegant hack. Mammas, don't let your babies grow up if they're hackers. Some day they'll hack NORAD and start World War III The world is a gonner if you let them be. Mammas, don't let your babies grow up to be hackers. 'Cause they'll always stay home in their room all alone, Interfaced to their silicon love.