Once upon a day so dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious link of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my patio door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my patio door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
And so my Edgar Allan Poe-esk story begins.
While I was not dreaming of sweet Lenore, nor was it dark outside,
there was a rap, tap, tapping at the patio door.
A gentle tap, tap, tapping at my patio door.
Thinking a neighbour was seeking assistance,
I peeked out the window only to find no one there.
And the thumping and rustling of each furry kitten
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my patio door -
Some visitor entreating entrance at my patio door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Here Upon I flung the door, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
No, not a raven, just the piercing eye of a prehistoric bird;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched below my patio door -
Perched upon the metal sill just below my patio door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this bold bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the severe soul searching gaze it wore,
`Though thy eyes be stern, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient chicken wandering from the coop -
Tell me what it is thy art looking for!'
Quoth the chicken, `Feed me More'
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl,
Who wandered to my step;
Asking so persistently, Nay demanding
By her severe demeanour
Feathered beast sitting below my patio door,
With such cry of 'Feed me More!".