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The End of the Raven
The End of the Raven
-- by Edgar Allen Poe's Cat 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, curios and wierd 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 lept 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 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 and 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. -- Victor M. Martinez Owned and operated by the Fantastic Seven (TM) Send your spam he Email me he |
#2
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The End of the Raven
On Fri, 03 Mar 2006 23:42:33 -0600, Victor Martinez wrote:
The End of the Raven -- by Edgar Allen Poe's Cat 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, curios and wierd 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 lept 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 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 and 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. Very clever! MLB |
#3
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The End of the Raven
Victor Martinez wrote:
The End of the Raven -- by Edgar Allen Poe's Cat Another one from Henry Beard's Poetry for Cats. My favourite is Hamlet's cat's soliloqui ("To go outside, and there perchance to stay/ Or to remain within; that is the question..."). -- Marina, Miranda and Caliban. In loving memory of Frank and Nikki. marina (dot) kurten (at) iki (dot) fi Stories and pics at http://koti.welho.com/mkurten/ Pics at http://uk.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/frankiennikki/ and http://community.webshots.com/user/frankiennikki |
#4
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The End of the Raven
On Fri, 03 Mar 2006 23:42:33 -0600, Victor Martinez
yodeled: The End of the Raven -- by Edgar Allen Poe's Cat 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, curios and wierd 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 lept 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 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 and 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. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Anybody remember the version of "The Raven" from "Bullwinkle's Corner"? Theresa Stinky Pictures: http://community.webshots.com/album/125591586JWEFwh My Blog: http://www.humanitas.blogspot.com Make Levees, Not War |
#5
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The End of the Raven
.....Hate to see what his DOG wrote....;-)
-- Mathew Butler to 3 cats: Chablis, Muscat & Sage En Vino Veritas "Victor Martinez" wrote in message ... The End of the Raven -- by Edgar Allen Poe's Cat 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, curios and wierd 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 lept 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 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 and 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. -- Victor M. Martinez Owned and operated by the Fantastic Seven (TM) Send your spam he Email me he *** Free account sponsored by SecureIX.com *** *** Encrypt your Internet usage with a free VPN account from http://www.SecureIX.com *** |
#6
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The End of the Raven
"Victor Martinez" wrote in message
... The End of the Raven -- by Edgar Allen Poe's Cat 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, curios and wierd 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 lept 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 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 and 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. -- Victor M. Martinez Owned and operated by the Fantastic Seven (TM) Send your spam he Email me he ROTFLMAO! That one is definitely a keeper! Thanks for posting it, Victor. -- Hugs, CatNipped See all my masters at: http://www.PossiblePlaces.com/CatNipped/ |
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