Suddenly Every Bot’s an Artist

Here is my latest SPAM message, from one Wilburn Farmer whose email address actually starts with Deann. No judgment here!

Subject: Hi

Moo Cow, Moo cow
Moo cow, moo cow,
How do you do, cow?
Very well, thank you,
Moo, moo, moo.
Two Little Birds Sitting On a Wall
Two little birds
Sitting on a wall,
One called Peter,
One called Paul.
Fly away Peter,
Fly away Paul,
Come back Peter,
Come back Paul.
Ladybird, Ladybird
Ladybird, Ladybird,
Fly away home,
Your house is on fire,
Your children all gone.
This Little Pig
This little pig went to market,
This little pig stayed at home,
This little pig had roast beef,
This little pig had none,
And this little pig went wee, wee, wee,
All the way home.

This little pig had roast beef,
Your children all gone.
Your house is on fire,

Bonus points for no apparent motive except spreading poetry and goodwill. Actually, scratch goodwill. It ends on a downright sinister note. But art’s job is not to be mushy cushy feel-good. Art’s job is to make you feel something. I felt something, and no, it wasn’t my mouse zooming toward the Delete option.

It’s a veritable Mother Goose montage plus an incendiary commentary on the 21st century geopolitical landscape.

Ahem.

Isn’t everything though?

P.s.S.t. This could also be constituted as semi-plagiarism but that is a pretty searing accusation for age-old rhyme and I couldn’t find any of this verse in its entirety after a cursory Google search. Let sleeping algorithms lie.

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