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With apologies to Edgar Allan Poe…
Once upon a midnight dreary, as you quaffed drinks brown and beery,
Came a tapping amid the gloom, upon the closed door of your room.
You spied with thin eyes the tenebrous hall, wond’ring who had the unmitigated gall
To interrupt your sacred rite of getting hammered throughout the night.
But naught was there—just drafty air, which brought a chill to what flesh was bare,
And as it seemed you’d be bothered nevermore, up flew a raven from the shadowy floor.
It flapped about madly, you fell back in alarm—”Woe is me!” cried ye, as it perched on your arm.
Stricken by fear, your soul rendered weak, you rued the dark tidings soon to shriek from that beak.
But the bird of ill omen Continue reading