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146Good Deeds

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  • cleake@umailme.net
    Mar 1, 2000
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      Quoth The Raven Never More

      On a night quite unenchanting,
      when the rain was downward slanting,
      I awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for.

      Tipsy and a bit unshaven,
      in a tone I found quite craven,
      Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door.

      "Raven's very tasty," thought I,
      as I tiptoed o'er the floor, "There is nothing I like more."

      Soft upon the rug I treaded,
      calm and careful as I headed,
      Towards his roost atop that dreaded bust of Pallas I deplore.

      While the bard and birdie chattered,
      I made sure that nothing clattered,
      Creaked, or snapped, or fell, or shattered,
      as I crossed the corridor;

      For his house is crammed with trinkets,
      curious and weird decor,
      Bric-a-brac and junk galore.

      Still the Raven never fluttered,
      standing stock-still as he uttered,
      In a voice that shrieked and sputtered,
      his two cents' worth -"Nevermore".

      While this dirge the birdbrain kept up,
      oh, so silently I crept up,
      Then I crouched and quickly leapt up,
      pouncing on the feathered bore.

      Soon he was a heap of plumage,
      and a little blood and gore -
      Only this and not much more.

      "Oooo!" my pickled poet cried out,
      "Pussycat, it's time that I dried out!"

      Never sat I in my hideout talking to a bird before;
      How I've wallowed in self-pity, while my gallant, valiant kitty
      Put an end to that damned ditty"
      - then I heard him start to snore.

      Back atop the door I clambered,
      eyed that statue I abhor,
      Jumped - and smashed it on the floor.

      Posted solely in an attempt to raise the tone of our communication
      intercourse a trifle and explain the value of felines in our lives.