The Raven

'Twas on a Tuesday, hot and steaming
That I sat, alone, day-dreaming
When I heard a rapping and a tapping at my flat's front door.

I waited and it came again
So I got up and then my brain
Said that I expected no-one to be there. I was so unsure.

I looked into the empty hall
And there a-hopping, saw with gall
There stood a raven, yellow-eyed with evil-sounding squawk and
caw.

I looked around but no-one's there
Just this black bird with icy stare
And then it speaks. It says, "Good evening, sir. My name, it is
Lenore."

"Can I come in ?" it asks and then
It hops straight past me to my den
It just stood there and grinned at me. "Come, sir, don't be a frightful
bore !"

I thought that I must be insane
Slammed shut the door and stared in vain.
The bird was stood upon that mini-bar I got in Singapore.

The raven said, "I'd like a drink."
It looked around. "A rum, I think,
And then a brandy, lager shandy. Come on !" it squawked. "Time to pour
!"

I racked my thoughts and did remember
One depressed night last December
When I found upon the Net a list of spells from days of yore.

It goes back to a spell I said.
I wished for a bird dark of head
Who could drink me 'neath the table and talk for hours of things
galore.

I said, "How about a whisky ?"
"No," it screeched, "it makes me frisky.
Maybe later though, big boy," it winked at me with much amour.

I saw this was the devil's work.
I cursed myself for being a berk.
I had to get it out of here and sanity again restore.

But this here bird, with practised ease
Had found the mini-bar's door keys
And even now, it hopped within. Chianti it began to pour

I threw a book. It missed the bird.
I threw a second and a third.
Lenore flew round and round the room causing where'er she passed
uproar.

The bird alighted, quoting Lear
(Edward, that is, not Shakespeare)
It made me mad. It made me lunge at the window with a loud roar.

That lunge, it missed, and with a cry
I realised that, nine floors high
The pavement rose too bloody fast. I waved my fist ! So, this
means&;#8230;

I bled there, gazing on a star
Whilst Lenore drank the mini-bar.
Things all went dark, I drifted off. And quaffed the raven
evermore.