Once upon a sunday evening, while on the TV, heads were steaming,
Over numbered lines and lush turf beneath boards of score,
While I quaffed ale, and ate nachos, there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my man den's door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my man den's door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
And the armored warriors upon my screen resumed their war
Which thrilled me - filled me with fantastic feelings never felt before;
But once more, `knock knock` I hear, so I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor seeking entrance to the man den -
Some late visitor perhaps curious about the score; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Curious was I, too, emboldened by such; I paused the contest to speak,
`Oi,' said I, `I didn't lock the door, so just open it;
I'll not disturb my quaffing and munching for your blasted
tapping, tapping -- during the game no less! -- at my man den's door'
`knock knock` came the reply - in a fury I flung wide open the door; -
Only to see darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there staring, fearing,
Questioning my sanity, no less my hearing, in the doorway now open
The silence remained unbroken, and from the darkness I received no token,
And the only word there I heard spoken was an ethereal, `Caw caw!'
In disbelief I whispered it and an echo was returned, `Caw caw!'
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into my man den I came, all my soul and heart aflame,
I heard a tapping once again, somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `that is from my window coming, no doubt;
Let me see then, who torments me, and this mystery reveal -
Let my heart be calmed, my mind slowen, and see who calls; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'
Upon reaching the window, I flung it open wide, when, with nary a sound,
In stepped a majestic hawk of the saintly days of yore.
Without consideration, nor pause he fluttered wing and rose up,
And, with surety -- as if he were home -- perched above my man den's door -
Perched upon a bust of Breesus just above my man den's door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this predator bird beguiling my trembling into smiling,
By the sharpness of beak and stern expression it wore,
`Though your eyes are stern, you appear,' I said, `not to seek to do harm.
Majestic and frightful hawk of night with beak so terribly sharp -
Tell me what name you go by, this evening, so I may be informed!'
Quoth the raven, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'
The hawk, sitting lonely on the placid bust of Breesus, spoke only,
Those three words, as if his soul in that one phrase he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other birds have flown before -
On the morrow you will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'
As I sat upon cushioned chair of leather, I felt the air grow dense
My arms upon the arm rests tense, the beating of my heart intense
`Bird,' I cried, `why do you torment me so? I merely seek to view the game
Not for great bells or yeti, nor otter, sabercat or even outlaw!
Not for spooky ghost, nor second line in Nawlins! I watch only your sort!'
Quoth the hawk, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'
`Dammit!' I screamed, `Why do you seek my company! Be you bird or devil? -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Stern-looking, and at ease within my home, my attention enraptured -
Mind and soul haunted by your silhouette - tell me truly, I implore -
Have I displeased or given cause to torment my thoughts - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the hawk, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'
`That!' said I, `is no answer, you feathered fiend - you fucking fuck!
With God as my witness in the heavens above us - give me answer -
Tell this soul the purpose, reasoning, or nature of your visit,
Relieve mind of questioning by providing response - I will ask just once more
What is it that brings you to my man den, and sees you perched above my door?'
Quoth the hawk, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'
`Be that phrase our sign of parting, feathered fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and without knowledge of tonights score!
Leave no single plume as a token of the torment thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my game-viewing unbroken! My questions remain unanswered
so take thy beak from out my heart, and leave the shoulder of Breesus! Begone!'
Quoth the hawk, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'
And the hawk, not once flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the bust of Breesus resting just above my man den's door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore
Over numbered lines and lush turf beneath boards of score,
While I quaffed ale, and ate nachos, there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my man den's door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my man den's door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
And the armored warriors upon my screen resumed their war
Which thrilled me - filled me with fantastic feelings never felt before;
But once more, `knock knock` I hear, so I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor seeking entrance to the man den -
Some late visitor perhaps curious about the score; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Curious was I, too, emboldened by such; I paused the contest to speak,
`Oi,' said I, `I didn't lock the door, so just open it;
I'll not disturb my quaffing and munching for your blasted
tapping, tapping -- during the game no less! -- at my man den's door'
`knock knock` came the reply - in a fury I flung wide open the door; -
Only to see darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there staring, fearing,
Questioning my sanity, no less my hearing, in the doorway now open
The silence remained unbroken, and from the darkness I received no token,
And the only word there I heard spoken was an ethereal, `Caw caw!'
In disbelief I whispered it and an echo was returned, `Caw caw!'
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into my man den I came, all my soul and heart aflame,
I heard a tapping once again, somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `that is from my window coming, no doubt;
Let me see then, who torments me, and this mystery reveal -
Let my heart be calmed, my mind slowen, and see who calls; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'
Upon reaching the window, I flung it open wide, when, with nary a sound,
In stepped a majestic hawk of the saintly days of yore.
Without consideration, nor pause he fluttered wing and rose up,
And, with surety -- as if he were home -- perched above my man den's door -
Perched upon a bust of Breesus just above my man den's door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this predator bird beguiling my trembling into smiling,
By the sharpness of beak and stern expression it wore,
`Though your eyes are stern, you appear,' I said, `not to seek to do harm.
Majestic and frightful hawk of night with beak so terribly sharp -
Tell me what name you go by, this evening, so I may be informed!'
Quoth the raven, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'
The hawk, sitting lonely on the placid bust of Breesus, spoke only,
Those three words, as if his soul in that one phrase he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other birds have flown before -
On the morrow you will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'
As I sat upon cushioned chair of leather, I felt the air grow dense
My arms upon the arm rests tense, the beating of my heart intense
`Bird,' I cried, `why do you torment me so? I merely seek to view the game
Not for great bells or yeti, nor otter, sabercat or even outlaw!
Not for spooky ghost, nor second line in Nawlins! I watch only your sort!'
Quoth the hawk, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'
`Dammit!' I screamed, `Why do you seek my company! Be you bird or devil? -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Stern-looking, and at ease within my home, my attention enraptured -
Mind and soul haunted by your silhouette - tell me truly, I implore -
Have I displeased or given cause to torment my thoughts - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the hawk, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'
`That!' said I, `is no answer, you feathered fiend - you fucking fuck!
With God as my witness in the heavens above us - give me answer -
Tell this soul the purpose, reasoning, or nature of your visit,
Relieve mind of questioning by providing response - I will ask just once more
What is it that brings you to my man den, and sees you perched above my door?'
Quoth the hawk, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'
`Be that phrase our sign of parting, feathered fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and without knowledge of tonights score!
Leave no single plume as a token of the torment thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my game-viewing unbroken! My questions remain unanswered
so take thy beak from out my heart, and leave the shoulder of Breesus! Begone!'
Quoth the hawk, `Motherfucker, caw caw.'
And the hawk, not once flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the bust of Breesus resting just above my man den's door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore
I impersonate a programmer for a living
Father of the League Wiki • Friendly Neighbourhood Angry Black Guy™ • NOT British
Originator of the Sim League Cinematic Universe (SLCU)
Super capitalists are parasites. Fite me.
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