I went out of my mind and then came to my senses
By meeting a magpie who mixed up his tenses,
Who muddled distinctions of nouns and of verbs,
And insisted that logic is bad for the birds.
With a poo-wee cluck and a chit, chit-chit;
The grammar and meaning don’t matter a bit.
The stars in their courses have no destination;
The train of events will arrive at no station;
The inmost and ultimate Self of us all
Is dancing on nothing and having a ball.
So with chat for chit and with tat for tit,
This will be that, and that will be It!
*The poem above is taken from Alan Watt’s “Nonsense”.
**Painting “Magpies” by Archibald Thorburn, 1905.