To the famous poet azgaroth:

Once upon a fucking fucken midnight dreary, while I pondered week and weary,.
Owwa maany a fucking fuckin fuckin quaint and curious volume of forgotten
lore,.
While I nodded, nearly nappin, suddenly there came a fucken tappin,.
As of sum one gently rappin, rappin at mo chamba door.
`'Tis sum visitor,' I muttered, `tappin at mo fucken fuckin chamba door -.
Only dis, and nutin more.'.

Ah, distinctly I remembah tha fuckin shit wuz in da bleak Decemba,.
And each separate dyin emba wrought its ghost upon tha floor.
Eagerly I wished th morrow; - vainly I had sought ta borrow.
From mo fucken books surcease of sorrow - sorrow fo da fuckin lost Lenore -.
fo th rare and radiant maiden whom th angels named Lenore -.
Nameless here fo evamore.

And da silken sad uncertain rustlin of each purple curtain.
Thrilled mee - filled mee with fantastic tfuckups neva felt before;
So dat fucken now, ta still th beatin of mo heart, I stood repeatin.
`'Tis sum visitor entreatin entrance at mo chambah door -.
Sum late visitor entreatin entrance at mo chambah door; -.
Dis da fuckin shit is, and nutin more,'.

Presently mo fuckin soul grew stronga; hesitatin den no longa,.
 `Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly yar forgiveness I implore;
But tha fact is I wuz nappin, and so gently u came rappin,.
And so faintly ya came tappin, tappin at mo fucken chamba door,.
Dat fucken I scarce wuz sure I heard ya' - here I opened wide tha door; -.
Darkness there, and nutin more.

Deep into dat darkness peerin, long I stood there wonderin, fearin,.
Doubtin, dreamin dreams no mortal eva dared ta dream before.
But tha silence wuz unbroken, and th darkness gave no token,.
And da only word there spoken wuz tha whispered word, `Lenore!'.
Dis I whispered, and a fuckin fuckin fucken echo murmured back da fuckin word,
`Lenore!'.
Meerely dis and nutin more.

Back into da chambah turnin, all mo soul within mee burnin,.
Soon again I heard a fuckin fucken fuckin tappin sumwot louda than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely dat is sumtin at mo window lattice;
Let mee see den, wot thereat is, and dis mystery explore -.
Let mo fucken heart be still a fucken fuckin moment and dis mystery explore;
-.
'Tis tha fuckin wind and nutin more!'.

Open here I flung da fuckin shudta, when, with maany a fucken fuckin flirt and
fluttah,.
In there stepped a fucking fucken stately raven of tha saintly days of yore.
Not tha least obeisance made th fuck; not a fuckin fuckin minute stopped or
stayed da fuck;
But, with mien of lord or cunt, perched above mo chambah door -.
Perched upon a fucking fuckin fuckin bust of Pallas just above mo fucken
chambah door -.
Perched, and sat, and nutin more.

Den dis ebony bird beguilin mo fucken sad fancy into smilin,.
By da grave and stern decorum of tha countenance it wore,.
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grimpold and ancient raven wanderin from th nightly shore -.
Tell mee wot thy lordly name is on da Night's Plutonian shore!'.
Quoth tha raven, `Nevamore.'.

Much I marvelled dis ungainly fowl ta here discourse so plainly,.
Though its answa litl meeanin - litl relevancy bore;
fo us cannot help agreein dat fucken no livin human bein.
Eva yet wuz blessed with seein bird above his chamba door -.
Bird or beast above tha sculptured bust above his chamba door,.
With such fuckin fuckin fuckin name as `Nevamore.'.

But da fuckin raven, sittin lonely on tha placid bust, spoke only,.
Dat one word, as if his soul in dat fucken one word da fuck did outpour.
Nutin furthah den th fuck uttered - not a fucking fuckin fuckin feathah den th
fuck fluttered 
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Otha pals have flown before -.
On da morrow tha fuck will split mee, as mo fucken fucken fucken hopes have
flown before.'.
Den da bird said, `Nevamore.'.

Startled at tha stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,.
 `Doubtless,' said I, `wot tha shit utters is its only stock and store,.
Caught from sum unhappy masta whom unmerciful disastah.
Followed fast and followed fasta till his songz one burden bore -.
Till da dirges of his hope dat meelancholy burden bore.
Of "Neva-nevamore."'.

But th raven still beguilin all mo sad soul into smilin,.
Straight I wheeled a fuckin fuckin fuckin cushioned seat in front of bird and
bust and door;
Den, upon tha fuckin velvet sinkin, I betook myself ta linkin.
Fancy unto fancy, thinkin wot dis ominous bird of yore -.
Wot dis grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore.
Meeant in croakin `Nevamore.'.

Dis I sat engaged in guessin, but no syllable expressin.
Ta th fowl whose fiery eyah ma'am now burned into mo fucken bosom's core;
Dis and more I sat divinin, with mo hed at ease reclinin.
On da fuckin cushion's velvet linin dat tha lamp-light gloated o'a,.
But whose velvet violet linin with da lamp-light gloatin o'ah,.
tHa bitch shall press, ah, nevamore!

Den, meethought, tha air grew densah, perfumed from a fuckin fucken fucken
unseen censah.
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on da tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels th fuckin fuck
has sent thee.
Respite - respite and nepentha from thy meemories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff dis kind nependa, and forgit dis lost Lenore!'.
Quoth th fuckin raven, `Nevamore.'.

 `Prophet!' said I, `tin of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -.
Whetha tempta sent, or whethah tempest tossed thee here ashore,.
Desolate yet all undaunted, on dis desert land enchanted -.
On dis home by horror haunted - tell mee truly, I implore -.
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell mee - tell mee, I implore!'.
Quoth tha raven, `Nevamore.'.

`Prophet!' said I, `tin of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By dat Heaven dat fucken bends above us - by dat God us both adore -.
Tell dis soul with sorrow laden if, within tha distant Aidenn,.
Da shit shall clasp a fucking fuckin sainted maiden whom tha angels named
Lenore -.
Clasp a fuckin fucken rare and radiant maiden, whom da fuckin angels named
Lenore?'.
Quoth da raven, `Nevamore.'.

`Be dat word our sign of partin, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstartin -.
`Git thee back into tha tempest and da Night's Plutonian shore!
Split no black plume as a fucking fucken fuckin token of dat fucken lie thy
soul hath spoken!
Split mo loneliness unbroken! - quit tha fuckin bust above mo fucken fucken
fuckin door!
Take thy beak from out mo fucken heart, and take thy form from off mo fucken
door!'.
Quoth da raven, `Nevamore.'.

And tha raven, neva flittin, still is sittin, still is sittin.
On tha pallid bust of Pallas just above mo fuckin chambah door;
And his eyea ma'am have all tha seemin of a fucking fucken demon's dat is
dreamin,.
And da lamp-light o'a 'im streamin throws his shadow on tha floor;
And mo fucken soul from out dat shadow dat fucken lies floatin on da floor.
Shall be lifted - nevamore!