As on winds I soared and came before his door.
And with my beak a snapping, I started at the rapping,
And the gentle tapping, tapping against his wooden door,
It is time now to trap him, when I get through this door.
Tis time to even the score!
Twas in the dark of winter, my eye it did glinter,
Caught my feather on a splinter, jutting from his solemn door,
I come with the sorrow, where others dare not follow,
Where there is no morrow, nor angels by the score,
The eyes are all hollow, where the black birds soar.
I’ve come to settle the score!
I heard him start a bustle, the curtain twitch and rustle,
I waited in the gloom, outside his sullen door,
With my beak I start repeating, the rhythm of the beating,
Will there be no greeting? behind this bloody door,
I wait upon the meeting, truely frozen to the core.
Standing on this cold floor!
I hear his voice grow stronger, will I be kept here much longer,
He mutters some apology that I choose to ignore,
Said he had been sleeping, when I had come a creeping,
That’s what did keep him, from opening the bloody door,
I wonder what he had been dreaming, while I wait outside the door.
Will I stand here evermore?
Then he stands there peering, looking quite unappealing,
Pretends he isn’t seeing, me stand there on the floor,
His frown it was unbroken, no word yet had he spoken,
Has he yet truly awoken? I stand upon my cold claws,
He darkly whispers out a name and thus I repeated, Lenore.
Never heard of her before!
So he stood there musing, it was most confusing,
My feathers they were fusing, in the cold outside the door,
It really was quite vexing, and quite complexing,
When he went back in, and shut the bloody door,
So I start thinking, it must be time to explore.
A way behind the door!
So I gave my wings a flutter, and flew in through the shutter,
It gave me quite a shudder, when I saw him stood before,
He really looked a fool, his chin speckled with drool,
He sat upon a stool, while I flew o’er to the door,
On some statue phallic, I perch above his stupid door.
I was feeling sore!
So I start then to preen, my thoughts they were obscene,
I wondered what he had seen, and then I nearly swore,
When he said I was a raven, that really is degrading,
He must be raving, thought I perched above the door,
He then started babbling about some sea-shore.
The mudcrow replied “caw?”
This really is inane, I think he must be insane,
It should be quite plain, that a crow sits above the door,
I wonder what he is seeing, this stupid human being,
And now he is kneeling, down upon the wooden floor,
I sit there pondering, all about this little bore.
I’ll come here nevermore!
So I sat there thinking, as the coals were a chinking,
I wonder if he will feed me was the thought to the fore,
Then he started muttering, got my feathers all a fluttering,
Then he started spluttering, what a strange outpour,
So thus did he start babbling, as I sat above the door.
So again I said “caw?”
That seemed to please him, so I thought to tease him,
Oh how I would lead him, I chuckle at what is in store,
See how his heart beats faster, but he’s heading for disaster,
I’ll show him who’s the master, the stupid little bore,
I sat thinking amused, perched above his bloody door.
With you I’ll wipe the floor!
I leave him sat guessing, oh god! he’s so depressing,
A butt for my jesting, I’ll show him what for,
For I am so beguiling, as he sits there reclining,
I’ll smash his silver lining and gloat over the chore,
With a cogency that’s blinding with my deadly rapport.
Again I say “caw!”
I have met none denser, he’ll be in need of a censor,
From my thoughts, for him I really do abhor,
“Wretch” he shouts at me, and I chuckle with glee,
No respite bestowed on thee, no matter how you implore,
Call me raven and ye, shall be flat out on the floor.
So no more “caw!”
He calls me a thing evil, this sad little weevil,
No need to be civil, with this maddening little bore,
Still he is undaunted, thou pale and all gaunted,
Looking like one that is haunted, oh this I adore,
Then he stutters and utters and starts to implore,
Yet there’s more, there’s more!
He asks if I prophecise, stands there all wide-eyed,
Asks after those that have died, which I choose to ignore,
With his hopes now fading, he asks after a maiden,
He asks if I can aid him, in his search for Lenore,
He looks close to fainting, sat there crossed legged on the floor.
The mudcrow retorts “caw!”
He now screams, upstarting, I now think of parting,
Makes me feel like farting, and leaving a deposit on the floor,
It seems he don’t like my joking, or the words I have spoken,
His mind must be broken, he’s washed up on the shore,
I wonder what he’s been toking, as I flutter from the door.
Quoth the mudcrow, “caw!”
The mudcrow now up for quitting and leave him there sitting,
All neurotic and twitting, squatting upon the floor,
And as I am leaving, him sitting there bereaving,
Once again I’ve deceived him, I call out as I fly through the door,
Into the shadows I’m receding. Quoth the mudcrow, “Nevermore! Nevermore!”
Quoth the mudcrow “Nevermore!”
The Mudcrow
May 11 1999
