Quaint and Curious - Parodies and Pastiches of Poe's The Raven

The End of The Raven

Funny Folks Annual

You’ll remember that a Raven in my study found a haven
On a plaster bust of Pallas, just above my chamber-door;
And that with no sign of flitting, he persisted there in sitting
Till, I’m not above admitting, that I found that bird a bore.
Found him, as he sat and watched me, an indubitable bore,
With his dreary “Never more.”
But it was, in fact, my liver caused me so to shake and shiver,
And to think a common Raven supernatural influence bore;
I in truth had, after dining, been engaged some hours in “wining”—
To a grand old port inclining — which its date was ’44!
And it was this crusted vintage, of the season ’44,
Which had muddled me so sore.
But next morn my “Eno” taking, for my head was sadly aching,
I descended to my study, and a wicker cage I bore.
There the Raven sat undaunted, but I now was disenchanted,
And the sable fowl I taunted as I “H-s-s-h-d!” him from my door,
As I took up books and shied them till he flew from off my door,
Hoarsely croaking, “Never more!”
“Now, you stupid bird!” I muttered, as about the floor it fluttered.
“Now you’re sorry p’raps you came here from where’er you lived before?”
Scarcely had I time to ask it, when, upsetting first a casket,
My large-size waste-paper basket he attempted to explore,
Tore the papers with his beak, and tried its mysteries to explore,
Whilst I ope’d the cage’s door.
Ever in my actions quicker, I brought up the cage of wicker,
Placed it on the paper basket, and gave one loud “H-s-s-h!” once more.
When, with quite a storm of croaking, as though Dis himself invoking,
And apparently half choking, in it rushed old “Never more!”—
Right into the cage of wicker quickly popped old “Never more!”
And I smartly shut the door.
Then without the least compunction, booking to St. John’s Wood Junction,
To the “Zoo” my cage of wicker and its sable bird I bore.
Saw the excellent Curator, showed him the persistent prater—
Now in manner much sedater — and said, “Take him, I implore!
He’s a nuisance in my study, take him, Bartlett, I implore!”
And he answered, “Hand him o’er.”
“Be those words our sign of parting!” cried I, suddenly upstarting,
“Get you in amongst your kindred, where you doubtless were before.
You last night, I own, alarmed me (perhaps the cucumber had harmed me!),
And you for the moment charmed me with your ceaseless ‘Never more!’—
Gave me quite a turn by croaking out your hollow ‘Never more!’
But ‘Good-bye!’ all that is o’er!”
* * * * *
Last Bank Holiday, whilst walking at the Zoo, and idly talking,
Suddenly I heard low accents that recalled the days of yore;
And up to the cages nearing, and upon the perches peering—
There, with steak his beak besmearing, draggle-tailed, sat “Never more!”
Mutual was our recognition, and, in his debased condition, he too thought of heretofore;
For anon he hoarsely muttered, shook his draggled tail and fluttered, drew a cork at me and swore—
Yes, distinctly drew three corks, and most indubitably swore!
Only that, and nothing more!

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