By the Shores of Gitchee Gumee

Where is Gitchee Gumee to be found?

Atascadero and Azusa both

I’ve been to, know exactly where they’re at.

But Gitchee Gumee? I would have to ride

A broken bus into a phony land

To even hope to have a clue where it

Is at. I guess its shining water hides

A trap for the unwary. Possibly

Beneath the water lurks the very worst

You can imagine: Shining blue-green teeth

That click in time to samba music scream,

“The line! The line! The line! Is fine! It’s mine!”

 

But Longfellow is out of fashion now.

The tranquil lake he wrote about is gone.

Polluted water breeds the canker sores

That line imagination’s weeping eyes

With putrid exhalations. And the waves

That rippled gently on his quiet lake

Are now malevolent, chaotic chimes

That clunk a drunken clarion of noise

That nothing is, and anything can be

Whatever anybody says it is.

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