Sunday, May 24, 2009

61 Where's my medicine?

Once upon a midnight dreary
As I pondered, weak and weary
There came a rapping a not quite tapping
Upon my chamber door

Stumbling from my broken slumber
Quaffing down a wooden tumbler
I made a grabbing, a not quite stabbing
under my chamber door

Left alone that endless tapping
Would've wrecked my evening napping
Now there's murder soup galore
To feast upon beyond my snores

Crows shouldn't tap at poor men's chamber doors.

1 comment:

Marcel said...

Since we're talking birds and roads now, I've seen a black pigeon dragging a dead white pigeon across a four-lane highway. I wish I had had a camera, any person stubborn enough could find bimbillions of different far-fetched meanings to this.

Are you going to expand on those? I reckon No. 62 would be close to Vonnegutian if it were longer.