Once upon a weekend dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a post and curious thread of RAWK-ish lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a panting,
As of some one gently fapping, fapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis surely
@Sapie88 ,” I muttered, “fapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”
Open here I flung the portal, when, with many a flirt and chortle,
In there stumbled a drunken Sterling of the Kopite 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 Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, then sh!t on my floor.
“Kopite!” said I, “thing of evil!—kopite still, if wall-pusher or devil!—
Whether Rodgers sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, is it true what papers reported—
At the pit so Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is it—
is it true a hundred grand to stay at Anfield?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
LOL'd the nobhead “Nevermore.”
