THE SIMPSONS - The Raven (Treehouse of Horror I)

Hello, something scary happening. Hey, it's Halloween. Put the book away. For your information, I'm about to read you a classic tale of terror by Edgar Allan Poe. -Wait a minute. That's a schoolbook. -Don't worry Bart, you won't learn anything. It's called "The Raven". Once upon a midnight dreary While I pondered weak and weary Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. -Tis some visitor -I muttered Tapping at my chamber door Only this and nothing more -Are we scared yet? -Bart, he's establishing mood. Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow Vainly I had sought to borrow from my books surcease of sorrow Sorrow for the lost Lenore Oh, Lenore. For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore Nameless here for evermore. And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain, 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; 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 my chamber door, that I scarce was sure I heard you. Here I opened wide the door This better be good. Darkness there and nothing more D'you know what would have been scarier than nothing? -What? -Anything! Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. -Surely -Said I Surely that is something at my window lattice Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter In there stepped a stately Raven of the Saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he But, with mein of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door Perched upon my bust of Pallas just above my chamber door Perched, and sat, and nothing more. -Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou. -I said Art sure no craven, ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the nightly shore -Tell me, tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's Plutonian shore! Quoth the Raven -Eat my shorts! -Bart, stop it! - He said - Nevermore -And that's all he'll ever say. -Okay. Okay. Then, methought, the air grew denser -Perfumed by some unseen censer -Stupid censer. Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. -Wretch -I cried Thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee Respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore! -Quoth the Raven -Nevermore -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 black 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 Raven -Nevermore Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door Quoth the Raven -Nevermore -Why you little Come back here, you little raven! Nevermore, nevermore, nevermore, nevermore, nevermore Nooooooooooooo! No! no! no! And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas 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. Lisa, that wasn't scary. Not even for a poem. But it was written in 1845. Maybe people were easier to scare back then. Oh yeah, like when you look at Friday the 13th Part I. It's pretty tame by today's standards. Children, bedtime! I guess I'll have no trouble getting to sleep tonight. No, no Marge! Come on, please! Homer, I'm not sleeping with the lights on. They're just children's stories. They can't hurt you. Oh, oh, I hate Halloween!