The Corbeau

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I recall of how my prominence then did fall,
I was most high with money and all, spent upon that worthless whore.
All my money I did gather, and gave so that her father,
To me and not someone rather, give to me his daughter, Lenore
For the fair and radiant maiden whom the demons name Lenore-
Was worthless here for evermore.

And I stood there simply fearing all her lawyers and alimony hearing
The thoughts filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before.
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."

Slowly to the door I ambled, and in a lowly voice did ramble,
"Please," I begged, "no more money have I in store.
On the sofa I was napping, when you so gently came tapping,
I sold the bed and all the matting, to pay the collectors knocking at my door.
Get away from me you heartless wench!" - here I opened wide the door -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Silently into the darkness peering, I imagined her face cold and leering,
And I grew sick, instantly hurling, hurling like never before.
The taste in my mouth was most bitter, and my dinner i did see litter
I reached out as if to choke her and fell onto the hallway floor.
Bent in agony with a gasp I pulled myself from the floor
Twas my imagination, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Was she doing this?" I thought haunted, but I moved quickly, undaunted
Across to the window that lay opposite the chamber door.
I peered thru the window laying opposite the chamber door,
"Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately corbeau of the saintly days of yore;
He hovered around quite uncertain, broke a flask and tore the curtain,
And then settled most majestically, perched above my chamber door
Perched upon a bust of Panday just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

This hidoues bird then stood there watching, with its head gently rocking,
It was almost as if my life was in the countenance it wore.
"Your features are both black and base, which seems to describe all my wife's tastes
Evil and foul, you have wandered a long way from the Beetham's shore.
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Beetham shore!"
Quoth the Corbeau, "Suffermore."

Taken aback I was quite plainly, for this creature had just mainly
Dictated in terms quite simply, all that I had bore.
I pondered briefly at this word and wondered from whence it had heard
Could it be?? Could it be that tart... that whore?
I cursed the day I ever met that malicious, spiteful whore
And the bird said "Suffermore"

And the Corbeau seemed to smile for then I noticed all the while
That he was defecating, defecating on the bust above my door.
Strangely I was not bothered, but pulled the shotgun from the cupboard
Took aim and pulled the trigger, a simple smile I wore,
But the emptiness of the clicking sound turned the smile I wore,
Croaked the Corbeau "Suffermore"

Enraged I heaved the gun at it, my throw was poor and did not hit,
And with a bang, it went off as it hit the floor.
I cursed and screamed most ardently, for the bullet hit me in my knee,
And I fell, weeping and clucthing the hole it tore.
"Oh why! Oh why!" I screamed clucthing at the hole it tore.
Quoth the Corbeau, "Suffermore"

"Were you sent here by the Devil? or my wife of similar level?!
"Get thee back into the tempest and to the Beetham's shore!"
I lay there bleeding almost fainting, and the floor in blood was tainting
Yet it stood there grimly painting its dark visage upon my door
"Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Smirked the Corbeau, "Suffermore."

I pulled myself up broke and bleeding, thoughts of medical bills receding
Shaking I cried, "Thou art truly of that bitch Lenore!"
The phone rang and the answering machine, took the message clear and clean
The words, "I'm suing you for harassment now," echoed to my core.
The Corbeau smiled a smile that chilled me to my very core,
Quoth the Corbeau, "Suffermore."

And the Corbeau, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Panday just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be never be lifted - suffermore!