The Storyteller - the wit and wisdom of Frank Coughlin
On a midnight dark and weary
I sat at my desk  without my dearie
I heard a knock upon my window
and who should appear but a crow
"Not a crow you fool," he said to me,
"I'm a raving raven - that's plain to see.
I have come to mock you while you write."
"Didn't your mother tell you it is not polite,"
I asked while searching for my gun,
"to bother people before they are done?"
The evil one then did open his bill
and with it, grabbed my only quill.
"Caw, caw " he laughed out loud
"I have just done my mother proud."
At this point, a shot rang out
fired from my rifle so stout
And it winged the winged one from hell
Who from the highest shelf didst fell
upon my poor little head
he knocked me out but at least he was dead.
When I came to - I found this poem typed in on my blog
I myself was lying in a fog
with the dead raven next to me and a pen in his beak
I don't know how long he was dead but he did reek
There was a paper lying on the floor
upon which was written something awful - one word:  Nevermore !

Oh Poe, Poe Me - I have written something I did not want others to see
Something cawful something rank Something evil - rhyming poetry.
The Horrors of it all !!

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