No More Youtube Videos Consisting of Blank Visuals!

 

Take that blog post title gurus – you know who you think you are. Ever since starting this blog – the second time around – I’ve wanted the soundcloud thing to be shown rather than have to piss about with youtube…now I have managed it. And as a special treat it’s read by me, Trenton Babbage, in a slightly dramatic voice yes, but I did that for dramatic purposes.

It’s a parody of Edgar Allan Poe’s poem The Raven. My words and glossary are below, and an outtake may be released at a later date.

Enjoy!

 

 

The Pigeon

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered palaeognathae,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of the Pigeon Lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door –
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate flying feral wrought its crap upon the floor.
Eager wished I Fat Shan Blue; vainly sought Romanian Gagiu
From books Denizli Bangosu – sorrow for the lost Lenore –
For the rare Anatolian Turbit whom the angels name Lenore –
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken Belgian Tumbler flying ‘gainst the English Tippler
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 chamber door –
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber 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 Mariola, and the gentle Galatz Roller,
Together with the Indian Gola, flew into my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; –
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, thought I saw an Eichbühl rearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, not e’en the twitch of operculum,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, by my soul just like a Thurin-
-gian Mauser I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
‘Surely,’ said I, ‘surely that is a flock of weary Pappataccis;
Or off-course wandering Asiatic Crack Tumblers lost on an 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 stately pigeon of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door –
Perched upon a bust of Nelson just above my chamber door –
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this greying bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy motive be sedition, thou,’ I said, `art no religion.
Ghastly grim and ancient pigeon wandering from the nightly shore –
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the pigeon, `Coooor.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door –
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Coooor.’

But the pigeon, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if ’twere all Columbidae he did speak for.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered –
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Columba livia I’m sure-
On the morrow you will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’
Then the bird said, `Coooor.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,’ said I, `it has no brain ‘twixt nape and lore,
Caught from the unhappy fancier, father of Alonzo Ransier
Bullying the favoured Dolapci a gaol of songs one burden bore –
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of “Never-coooor.”‘

But the pigeon 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 yore –
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Coooor.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
My ignorance as to even where was located the brevis Extensor;
This and more I sat divining; where would one find the rhamphotheca lining?
The proventriculus was whining; it hadn’t moved from where it was before,
Nares, alula, cloaca, scapular; they hadn’t moved from where they were before,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim Pigeon, its guano on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the pigeon, `Coooor.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! –
Whether magnetoception, or olfactory navigation tossed thee here ashore,
The Alsace Cropper is undaunted, the Scandaroon it lands enchanted –
On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore –
Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
Quoth the pigeon, `Coooor.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore –
By the Laced Bordench Mondain Catalonian, and the Velvet Shield Franconian,
It shall clasp turbit Anatolian whom the angels name Lenore –
Clasp a rare turbit Anatolian, whom the angels name Lenore?’
Quoth the pigeon, `Coooor.’

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting –
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no grey plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’
Quoth the pigeon, `Coooor.’

And the pigeon, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Nelson just above my chamber 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!

Glossary:

Pigeon species:-

Feral Pigeon
Fat Shan Blue
Romanian Gagiu
Denizli Bangosu
Anatolian Turbit
Belgian Tumbler
English Tippler
Mariola
Galatz Roller
Indian Gola
Eichbühl
Thuringian Mauser Pigeon
Pappatacci
Asiatic Crack Tumbler
Dolapci
Seraphim Pigeon
Alsace Cropper
Scandaroon
Laced Bordench Mondain Catalonian
Velvet Shield Franconian

Pigeon physiology:-

lore – the region between the eyes and nostrils of birds, reptiles, and amphibians.
nare – nostril
operculum – a structure which covers the nares of some birds
nape – the back of the neck
Extensor brevis – a wing muscle
rhamphotheca – the outer surface of the beak consisting of a thin horny sheath of keratin
preventriculus – a glandular part of the stomach
alula – a small projection on the anterior edge of the wing
cloaca – the terminal chamber of the gastrointestinal and urogenital systems
scapular – the shoulder blade

Pigeon classifications:-

Palaeognathae – one of the two living clades of birds
Columbidae – the bird clade constituting pigeons and doves
Columba livia – taxonomic term for the Feral Pigeon

Methods of Navigation:-

magnetoception – using the Earth’s magnetic field
olfactory – smell

I replaced the Pallas bust with one of Nelson in reference to Nelson’s Column in Trafalgar Square, London; a haven for pigeons.

I am not a pigeon fancier, but I have eaten one…a pigeon that is; not a fancier.