tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post5343018646076211099..comments2013-06-02T10:14:07.555-05:00Comments on Musing Myself To Death: One Fine Day In The Middle Of The NightDennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-46758670739345194472007-11-26T23:50:00.000-06:002007-11-26T23:50:00.000-06:00I was just exploring the folklore archives at U.C....I was just exploring the folklore archives at U.C. Berkeley, & I found, under nonsense rhymes, a folder full of hundreds & hundreds of versions of the poem, collected by students over the past three decades. There were multiple variations, & paragraphs with interpretations, such as it being a metaphor for the cold war. It reminds me of the nonsense logic in Carroll's poetry (i.e., "He looked again, and found it was A Bear without a Head. 'Poor thing,' he said, 'poor silly thing! It's waiting to be fed!'") or Dylan ("...he built a fire on main street & shot it full of holes.)<BR/><BR/>I published one of the folklore archive versions here: <A HREF="http://www.itwaslost.org/2007/11/in-anthropocentric-society-harsh.html" REL="nofollow">here</A>.S. Sandrigonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00220829420861452109noreply@blogger.com