----- Forwarded message from glen mccready ----- Forwarded-by: Rob Windsor Forwarded-by: Shaun McGee Forwarded-by: Ferk33@aol.com Forwarded-by: KCKraft4@aol.com Forwarded-by: unique.corn@juno.com (Janine Greenberg-Walker) 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 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 carefully 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, curious and weird 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 leapt up, Pouncing on the feathered bore. Soon he was a heap of plumage, plus a little blood and gore -- Only this and nothing more. "Ah!" 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, noble kitty Put an 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. ----- End forwarded message ----- -- * Progress (n.): The process through which Usenet has evolved from smart people in front of dumb terminals to dumb people in front of smart terminals. -- obs@burnout.demon.co.uk (obscurity)