The Parrot
By Luke
A "Parrot"dy of Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven"
Mine isn't nearly as depressing
Mine isn't nearly as depressing
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I sat there, weak and teary,
Crying at the prospect that the past few years had been a complete bore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As some pirate loudly rapping, rapping at me quarter's door.
"'Tis be some pirate, " I sputtered, "tapping at me quarter's door-
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember staring at the dying ember
Whilst getting hit by some water falling through the cracks of the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow - vainly I tried to borrow
From me ship's logs end of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Shanore.
For the rare and beautiful schooner whom I had christened Shanore -
Nameless here for evermore.
So I sat there, sad, uncertain, because me room was a curtain
To the outside world that I had once loved and had lost before;
So that now, to still the beating on me door, I stood repeating,
"'Tis be some pirate entreating entrance at me quarter's door -
Some late, drunk pirate entreating entrance at me quarter's door -
This be it, and nothing more."
Presently me voice grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Ye scurvy dog," roared I, "ye woke me up from me sleeping more;
See, the fact be I was napping, and so loudly ye came rapping,
And annoyed me by yer tapping, tapping at me quarter's door
That I didn't want to see ye" - here I opened wide the door-
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, jeering,
Laughing, dreaming dreams no sane man ever dared to dream before;
But me courage was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Shanore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Shanore!"
Merely this, and nothing more.
Then into the bedroom turning, all me soul within me burning,
Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat softer than before.
"Surely," I yelled, "surely that be something at me window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let me heart be still a moment and this mystery explore -
'Tis the wind, and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter
In there stepped a flustered parrot of the happy times of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, without the charm of lady, perched above me quarter's door -
Perched upon a bust of Neptune just above me quarter's door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this colorful bird beguiling me sad fancy into smiling,
By the light and gay decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though yer crest be shorn and shaven, ye," said I, "art sure no raven,
Ye made me window a haven after wand'ring about shore -
Tell me what yer heavenly name be so that I may ye adore!"
Quoth the parrot, "Nevermore."
Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to have discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help but agreeing that no Caribbean being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his quarter's door -
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his quarter's door,
With such a name as "Nevermore."
But the parrot, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Most pirates have flown before."
Quote the parrot, "Nevermore."
Wondering at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters be its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster - so, when Hope he would adjure,
Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure -
That strange answer, 'Nevermore.'"
But that parrot still beguiling all me sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a wooden seat in front of bird, and bust, and door;
Then upon the armchair sinking, I betook meself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this colorful bird of yore -
What this happy, ungainly, pleasant, and colorful bird of yore
Meant in squawking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To this fowl whose curious eyes now gazed into me bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with me head at ease reclining
On the armchair's engraved twining that the lamplight gloated o'er.
On the brilliant, bright blue sea with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall sail, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censor
Swung by mermaids whose faint tail-slaps sounded on the wooden floor.
"Beast," I cried, "Neptune hath lent ye - by these mermaids he hath sent ye
Respite - respite and let ye flee and forget this lost Shanore!
Let me buy another schooner and forget this lost Shanore!"
Quote the parrot, "Nevermore."
"Ye there!" said I, "thing of sea talk! Ye should not know of how I walk!
How could ye know that I'm broke and can't go and buy boats ashore?
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted,
On this home by Horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Can I fill me coffers to buy a ship? - tell me, I implore!
Quoth the parrot, "Nevermore."
"Ye there!" said I, "thing of sea talk! Ye should not know of how I walk!
By Davy Jones' Locker, by the depths of the sea that we adore -
Tell this soul by the moon's lunar shine if I can see her sooner,
That I can own that great schooner whom I had christened Shanore -
Sail that great and mighty schooner whom Neptune named Shanore."
Quoth the parrot, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting -
"Get ye back into the tempest and into Neptune's cursed shore!
Leave no feather as a token of that lie yer soul hath spoken!
Leave me loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above me door!
Take yer beak from out me heart, and take yer form from off me door!"
Quoth the parrot, "Nevermore."
And the parrot, never flitting, still be sitting, still be sitting
On the pallid bust of Neptune just above me quarter's door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a pirate that be dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And me thoughts from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
Crying at the prospect that the past few years had been a complete bore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As some pirate loudly rapping, rapping at me quarter's door.
"'Tis be some pirate, " I sputtered, "tapping at me quarter's door-
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember staring at the dying ember
Whilst getting hit by some water falling through the cracks of the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow - vainly I tried to borrow
From me ship's logs end of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Shanore.
For the rare and beautiful schooner whom I had christened Shanore -
Nameless here for evermore.
So I sat there, sad, uncertain, because me room was a curtain
To the outside world that I had once loved and had lost before;
So that now, to still the beating on me door, I stood repeating,
"'Tis be some pirate entreating entrance at me quarter's door -
Some late, drunk pirate entreating entrance at me quarter's door -
This be it, and nothing more."
Presently me voice grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Ye scurvy dog," roared I, "ye woke me up from me sleeping more;
See, the fact be I was napping, and so loudly ye came rapping,
And annoyed me by yer tapping, tapping at me quarter's door
That I didn't want to see ye" - here I opened wide the door-
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, jeering,
Laughing, dreaming dreams no sane man ever dared to dream before;
But me courage was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Shanore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Shanore!"
Merely this, and nothing more.
Then into the bedroom turning, all me soul within me burning,
Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat softer than before.
"Surely," I yelled, "surely that be something at me window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let me heart be still a moment and this mystery explore -
'Tis the wind, and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter
In there stepped a flustered parrot of the happy times of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, without the charm of lady, perched above me quarter's door -
Perched upon a bust of Neptune just above me quarter's door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this colorful bird beguiling me sad fancy into smiling,
By the light and gay decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though yer crest be shorn and shaven, ye," said I, "art sure no raven,
Ye made me window a haven after wand'ring about shore -
Tell me what yer heavenly name be so that I may ye adore!"
Quoth the parrot, "Nevermore."
Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to have discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help but agreeing that no Caribbean being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his quarter's door -
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his quarter's door,
With such a name as "Nevermore."
But the parrot, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Most pirates have flown before."
Quote the parrot, "Nevermore."
Wondering at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters be its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster - so, when Hope he would adjure,
Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure -
That strange answer, 'Nevermore.'"
But that parrot still beguiling all me sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a wooden seat in front of bird, and bust, and door;
Then upon the armchair sinking, I betook meself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this colorful bird of yore -
What this happy, ungainly, pleasant, and colorful bird of yore
Meant in squawking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To this fowl whose curious eyes now gazed into me bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with me head at ease reclining
On the armchair's engraved twining that the lamplight gloated o'er.
On the brilliant, bright blue sea with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall sail, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censor
Swung by mermaids whose faint tail-slaps sounded on the wooden floor.
"Beast," I cried, "Neptune hath lent ye - by these mermaids he hath sent ye
Respite - respite and let ye flee and forget this lost Shanore!
Let me buy another schooner and forget this lost Shanore!"
Quote the parrot, "Nevermore."
"Ye there!" said I, "thing of sea talk! Ye should not know of how I walk!
How could ye know that I'm broke and can't go and buy boats ashore?
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted,
On this home by Horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Can I fill me coffers to buy a ship? - tell me, I implore!
Quoth the parrot, "Nevermore."
"Ye there!" said I, "thing of sea talk! Ye should not know of how I walk!
By Davy Jones' Locker, by the depths of the sea that we adore -
Tell this soul by the moon's lunar shine if I can see her sooner,
That I can own that great schooner whom I had christened Shanore -
Sail that great and mighty schooner whom Neptune named Shanore."
Quoth the parrot, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting -
"Get ye back into the tempest and into Neptune's cursed shore!
Leave no feather as a token of that lie yer soul hath spoken!
Leave me loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above me door!
Take yer beak from out me heart, and take yer form from off me door!"
Quoth the parrot, "Nevermore."
And the parrot, never flitting, still be sitting, still be sitting
On the pallid bust of Neptune just above me quarter's door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a pirate that be dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And me thoughts from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
5/16/12