The bleedin' Raven


Once upon a midnight dreary, right, wile I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore-
Wile I nodded, nearly nappin', right, suddenly there came a tappin',
As of some one gently rappin', rappin' at me chamber door.
"'T is some visitor," I muttered, right, "tappin' at me chamber door-
Only this and nuffink more."

Ah, right, distinctly I remember it were in the bleedin' bleak December;
And each separate dyin' ember wrought its ghost upon the chuffin' floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;-vainly I 'ad sought ter borrow
From me books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden 'oom the angels named Lenore-
Nameless 'ere for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustlin' of each purple curtain
Frilled me-filled me wiv fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beatin' of me 'eart, I stood repeatin'
"'T is some visitor entreatin' entrance at me chamber door-
Some late visitor entreatin' entrance at me chamber door;-
This it is and nuffink more."

Presently me soul grew stronger; 'esitatin' then no longer,
"Sir," said I, right, "or Madam, right, truly yor forgiveness I implore;
But the bloody fact is I were nappin', and so gently yer came rappin',
And so faintly yer came tappin', right, tappin' at me chamber door,
That I scarce were sure I 'eard yer"-here I opened wide the bloomin' door;-
Darkness there and nuffink more.

Deep into the darkness peerin', right, long I stood there wonderin', right, fearin',
Doubtin', dreamin' dreams no mortal ever dared ter dream before;
But the silence were unbroken, right, and the chuffin' stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken were the wispered word, right, "Lenore! Right!"
This I wispered, right, and an echo murmured hammer and tack the word "Lenore! Blimey!"
Merely this and nuffink more.

Hammer and tack into the chamber turnin', all me soul wivin me burnin',
Soon again I 'eard a tappin' somewot louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is sumfink at me window lattice;
Let me see, right, ffen, wot thereat is, and this mestery explore-
Let me 'eart be still a mument and this mestery explore;-
'T is the wind and nuffink more! Honest guv!"

Open 'ere I flung the shutter, wen wiv many a flirt and flutter
In there stepped a stately Raven of the chuffin' saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made 'e; not a minute 'ad the mockers put on or stayed 'e;
But, right, wiv mien of lord or lady, right, perched above me chamber door-
Perched upon a nick of Pallas just above me chamber door-
Perched, right, and sat, and nuffink more.

Then this ebony bird beguilin' me sad fancy into smilin',
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Fough fy crest be shorn and shaven, ffou," I said, right, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wanderin' from the bleedin' Nightly shore-
Tell me wot fy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore! Blimey!"
Quoff the chuffin' Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl ter hear discourse so plainly,
Fough its answer wee meanin'-wee relevancy bore;
For we cannot 'elp agreein' that no livin' 'uman bein'
Ever yet were blessed wiv seein' bird above 'is chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the bloody sculptured nick above 'is chamber door,
Wiv such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sittin' lonely on the placid nick, spoke only
That word, right, as if 'is soul in that one word 'e did outpour.
Nuffink farffer then 'e uttered-not a feaffer then 'e fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Uvver chinas 'ave flown before-
On the bloody morrow 'e will leave me, right, as me 'opes 'ave flown before."
Then the bloomin' bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the bloody stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "wot it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master 'oom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till 'is songs one burden bore-
Till the bleedin' dirges of 'is 'ope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never-nevermore.'"

But the bleedin' Raven still beguilin' all me fancy into smilin',
Straight I weeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and nick and door;
Then, upon the chuffin' velvet sinkin', I betook meself ter linkin'
Fancy unto fancy, ffinkin' wot this ominous bird of yore-
Wot this grim, ungainly, ghastly, right, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croakin' "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessin', but no syllable expressin'
To the bleedin' fowl 'oose fiery mince pies now burned into me bosom's core;
This and more I sat divinin', wiv me loaf of bread at ease reclinin'
On the cushion's velvet linin' that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But 'oose velvet violet linin' wiv the chuffin' lamp-light gloatin' o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore! Blimey!

Then, right, meffought, right, the bloody air grew denser, right, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim 'oose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "ffy God 'aff lent thee-by these angels 'e 'aff sent thee
Respite-respite and nepenthe from fy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore! Blimey!"
Quoff the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet! Struth!" said I, "bugger of evil! Blimey!-prophet still, if bird or bog eyes! Blimey!
By that 'eaven that bends above us-by that God we boff adore-
Tell this soul wiv sorrow laden if, wivin the distant Aidenn, right,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden 'oom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden 'oom the bloomin' angels name Lenore."
Quoff the bloody Raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word us sign of partin', right, bird or fiend! Right!" I shrieked, right, upstartin'-
"Cop ffee hammer and tack into the bloomin' tempest and the chuffin' Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie fy soul 'aff spoken! Struth!
Leave me loneliness unbroken! Oi!-quit the nick above me door! Oi!
Take fy beak from out me 'eart, and take fy form from off me door! Honest guv!"
Quoff the Raven "Nevermore."

And the chuffin' Raven, never flittin', still is sittin', still is sittin'
On the bloomin' pallid nick of Pallas just above me chamber door;
And 'is mince pies 'ave all the bloomin' seemin' of a demon's that is dreamin',
And the lamp-light o'er 'im streamin' frows 'is shadow on the floor;
And me soul from out that shadow that lies floatin' on the floor
Shall be lifted-nevermore! Right!

~Edgar A. Poe