The Crow like Raven
by Edgar Allan Crowked
Once upon a training night dreary, while I pondered, tired and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of video taped past war,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at our change room door.
" 'Tis the media," I muttered, "tapping at our change room door;
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the warming of November,
And each separate team member wrought his ghosts of the season of 04.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From Craigy’s notebook surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost season of 04.
For the rare and precious position whom the faithful call Top 4
Almost forgotten here forevermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each preseason curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic enthusiasm never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some reporter entreating entrance at our change room door,
Some media member entreating entrance at our change room door.
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at our change room door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered words,
Top 4, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words,
"Top 4!" Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the change room turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at our change room door.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a crow like raven, from the saintly West Lakes shore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above our change room door.
Perched upon a bust of Blighty, just above our change room door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the West Lakes shore.
Tell me what thy message is tonight on the heavenly West Lakes shore."
Quoth the raven, "Top 4."
Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear encouragement so plainly,
Though its answer support in meaning, obvious relevance it bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above their change room door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above their change room door,
With such name as "Top 4."
But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
Those brief words, as if his soul in those words he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other Crows have won before;
On the morrow he will leave us, as our hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Sent to our newly appointed master, with whom we will avoid disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, we sang our song with the pride we bore,--
Till the hope of his message merged with the pride we bore
and of course, "with Ayresy---nevermore."
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of West lakes shore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of West Lakes shore
Meant in only crowking "Top 4" and nothing more
Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the lockers red, gold, blue lining that the limelight gloated o'er,
But whose red, gold, blue lining with the limelight gloating o'er
We shall stress, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footballs tinkled on the fake turf floor.
"Yes," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by thy Blighty he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of season 04!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost season of 04!"
Quoth the raven, "Top 4!"
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of hope!--prophet still, if Raven or Crow!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there hope of finals?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "yes, Top 4."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of hope--prophet still, if Raven or Crow!
By that heaven that bends above us--by Blighty we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the brand new season,
We shall clasp a finals birth, whom the AFL name Top 4---
Clasp a rare and hard fought position, whom the AFL name Top 4?
Quoth the raven, "Yes, Top 4."
"Be that word our sign of friendship, Raven or Crow!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Bring thee back into the tempest and the Night's West Lakes shore!
Use red, gold, blue thread as a token of that hope thy soul hath spoken!
Keep our team spirit unbroken! – nest in the bust above our door!
Give thy hope in to our hearts, and live thy life in celebration above our door"
Quoth the raven, yet again "Top 4."
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Blighty just above our change room door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of our premiership hopes not dreaming.
And the limelight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my faith from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall we be Premiers again--- yes, many more!
by Edgar Allan Crowked
Once upon a training night dreary, while I pondered, tired and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of video taped past war,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at our change room door.
" 'Tis the media," I muttered, "tapping at our change room door;
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the warming of November,
And each separate team member wrought his ghosts of the season of 04.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From Craigy’s notebook surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost season of 04.
For the rare and precious position whom the faithful call Top 4
Almost forgotten here forevermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each preseason curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic enthusiasm never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some reporter entreating entrance at our change room door,
Some media member entreating entrance at our change room door.
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at our change room door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered words,
Top 4, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words,
"Top 4!" Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the change room turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at our change room door.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a crow like raven, from the saintly West Lakes shore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above our change room door.
Perched upon a bust of Blighty, just above our change room door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the West Lakes shore.
Tell me what thy message is tonight on the heavenly West Lakes shore."
Quoth the raven, "Top 4."
Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear encouragement so plainly,
Though its answer support in meaning, obvious relevance it bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above their change room door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above their change room door,
With such name as "Top 4."
But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
Those brief words, as if his soul in those words he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other Crows have won before;
On the morrow he will leave us, as our hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Sent to our newly appointed master, with whom we will avoid disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, we sang our song with the pride we bore,--
Till the hope of his message merged with the pride we bore
and of course, "with Ayresy---nevermore."
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of West lakes shore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of West Lakes shore
Meant in only crowking "Top 4" and nothing more
Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the lockers red, gold, blue lining that the limelight gloated o'er,
But whose red, gold, blue lining with the limelight gloating o'er
We shall stress, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footballs tinkled on the fake turf floor.
"Yes," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by thy Blighty he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of season 04!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost season of 04!"
Quoth the raven, "Top 4!"
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of hope!--prophet still, if Raven or Crow!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there hope of finals?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "yes, Top 4."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of hope--prophet still, if Raven or Crow!
By that heaven that bends above us--by Blighty we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the brand new season,
We shall clasp a finals birth, whom the AFL name Top 4---
Clasp a rare and hard fought position, whom the AFL name Top 4?
Quoth the raven, "Yes, Top 4."
"Be that word our sign of friendship, Raven or Crow!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Bring thee back into the tempest and the Night's West Lakes shore!
Use red, gold, blue thread as a token of that hope thy soul hath spoken!
Keep our team spirit unbroken! – nest in the bust above our door!
Give thy hope in to our hearts, and live thy life in celebration above our door"
Quoth the raven, yet again "Top 4."
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Blighty just above our change room door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of our premiership hopes not dreaming.
And the limelight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my faith from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall we be Premiers again--- yes, many more!
