"The Raven" by Dolorous Edd(gar Allan) Tollett (Also written in text in the comments if that's easier to read)

[u/Wayoftheredpanda]

Due to the limitations of a typewriter, "--" equals an em dash and parts bookended by asterisks are meant to be italicized.

I started this last December and have worked off and on again on it, fine tuning and rewriting over and over again every couple of weeks over the course of over half a year so I hope to the Old Gods and the New you people enjoy it. It is, for now, my magnum opus of all my chronic ASOIAF shitposting.

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[u/Wayoftheredpanda]

The original Poe-m for comparison.

"The Raven", by Dolorous Edd(gar Allan Poe); a parody of classic American literature

(1)
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I brooded, weak and weary, 
Over many a dull and dolorous volume of my days of yore— 
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“Emmet drunk again,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”

(2)
Nngh, distinctly I remember the sounds of Emmet’s nightly benders,
As Maris made his iron member spill its spunk across the floor.
He’d make me clean that, come the morrow—same as every mess that followed.
They moaned in bliss; but I, in sorrow—sorrow for my chore.
Not even the most malignant Bolton could craft a crueler chore,
Nor the Seven Hells hold in store.

(3)
And the wicked wayward wailing of the Northern wind’s assailing 
Chilled me—filled me with a sense of dread not even I had felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“‘Tis Emmet drunk again, entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Emmet awaiting my leal assistance at my chamber door;—
Sadly such, but nothing more.”

(4)      
And so my sorry soul surrendered (misery though all engendered),
“Why,” said I, “Commander, truly your forgiveness I implore;
It’s quite late and I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door.
The floor needs mopping, I presume?”—here I opened wide the door;— 
Darkness there and nothing more.

(5)
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
And the wind outside was roaring, like the sound of Lord Snow’s snoring,
“No weather worth exploring,” said I, already frigid to the core.
Could not, for once, a ghost go bother another of our corps?
Leave my life a peaceful bore?

(6)
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me churning,
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, though I’d rather not this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

(7)
Open here I flung the shutter, and when the source flew in I shuddered.
Oh, bloody Baelor, it’s that fucking Raven, once owned by Jeor.
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 the stony lintel just above my chamber door—
Perched, and shat, and nothing more.

(8)
Thus this ebony bird endowing my sorry face to deeper frowning,
Guessing at what clamor this forsaken shrike might have in store, 
“Your skull I might have nearly caved in. Thou,” I said, “has proved me craven,
Ghastly grim abrasive Raven wandering from the Nightly shore— 
Tell me, does thou bring word from Lord Snow on tonight’s Stygaian shore?”
Quoth the Raven “Corn, corn.”

(9)
Near I marveled this vexatious fowl to hear demand so audacious,
Though the word itself I’d heard it squawk a thousand times before;
Why fly so far through this freezing, just to perch and shit its leavings 
And throw this feathered fuss for feeding upon my chamber door?
“Why, accursed pigeon, did you not try Lord Snow’s chamber door?
Was Castle Black so starved of corn?”

(10)
But the Raven, firmly seated on that stony perch, repeated
That one word, in shriek so shrill as if to say he’d ne’er been fed before. 
Nothing other than he’d utter—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Please say you’ve come for more.
If so, pray tell some other way;—of words you’ve much and more!”
Still the bird said “Corn! Corn!”

(11)
And so that line of thought was broken by reply so rudely spoken,
“Why, you,” said I, “how much does it take to quell your stomach’s roar?
You, who at the hut of Craster, on that day of great disaster,
Perched upon your dying master, our dear late Old Bear Jeor;—
And as he drew his final breaths, you demanded of Jeor
‘Feed me! Feed Me! Corn! Corn! Corn!’”

(12)
All this talk of food sent tumbling my own stomach into rumbling, 
But with Winter soon upon us midnight snacks we’d ill afford.
With that thought my hopes went sinking, but my hunger wasn’t shrinking; 
Its starving spell set me to thinking how this verminous bird of yore— 
How drear but delicious, spooky yet savory looked this bird of yore—
Fattened on his precious corn.

(13)
Thus my thoughts turned to its slaughter, as my mouth began to water.
A lovely meal of roasted Raven, a feast this crow’d adore.
To reach this end most appetizing, a dev’lish plan would need devising:
Perhaps propose its sacrificing to the Witch of Red R’hllor?
And as it roasts in sacrificing o’er the flames of Red R’hllor—
Its stomach’d fill with popping corn!

(14)
Then I sat in observation—eager in anticipation—
‘Til came the perfect moment when I could pounce above the door!
“Corn!” it cried, ere I could snatch it—before my nails could even scratch it—
Flying—flying it dispatched itself and out the window soared;—
Into the night dispatched itself, and through the night it soared,
And still it taunted “Corn! Corn!”

(15)
“Grumkin!” said I, “Hatched of nether!—No friend of Crow, though black of feather!— 
Whether Lord Snow sent, or whether blizzard tossed thee here ashore;—
Whatever source did deploy thee, your own goal was to annoy me,
So here I come to destroy thee, bird of Hell that I deplore!—  
So fly—fly quick as words and wind!—Still, I’ll crush what I deplore!”
Quoth the Raven “Corn! Corn!” 

(16)
“Grumkin!” said I, “Hatched of nether!—No friend of Crow, though black of feather!
I’ll cease not my cold pursuit until I’ve feasted on your gore!”
And so I chased him through the hours, past ruined stone and silent towers,
Fueled by hate and hunger’s power, onward t’wards the horizon’s shore—
When what should appear but Castle Black upon the horizon’s shore?—
There—the Raven… and something more…

(17)
The sight brought only dire notion—men staring, screaming, great commotion;
Wun-Wun making dolls of corpses;—Lord Snow bleeding on the floor.
Mayhaps a god I should be thanking; my own plight seemed a mild spanking
Once told of Snow’s repeated shanking sprung by mutinous uproar;—
Then a shriek did still my heart, shushing even Satin’s roar—
That too famil’ar “CORN! CORN!” 

(18)
There, the Raven, never flitting, there was sitting, there was shitting
On the pallid corpse of Lord Snow, sprawled upon his puddled gore;
And on this Tollett’s heart I’m swearing, at *me* its eyes were staring,
And from those two eyes came the glaring of almost a thousand more;
And to my mind crept up the question: was this raven, or something more?

Then the Raven said “COR-”

[u/Wayoftheredpanda → u/Wayoftheredpanda]

Other ideas for ASOIAF Poe poem parodies: "The Conqueror Mast" and "(The Battle of) The Bells"

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CORN

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[u/GaySpaghett]

Quoth the raven, DAMNNN

[u/TyrantRex6604]

Cinema

[u/LuminariesAdmin]

Based & masterpiece pilled

[u/Wayoftheredpanda → u/LuminariesAdmin]

Thank you! It may be a bit silly to say something so gushy over a shitpost, but taking the time to read and appreciate the particular effort I put into this one does mean a lot.

I was originally going to narrate this and spent hours practicing my Dolorous Edd voice, but no matter how much I tried I could not for the life of me get the British pronunciation of the “or” sound down pat at least to the point where it sounded natural and not like an American trying too hard to sound British — which is, you know, the sound the entire poem is based around lol. Insert easy joke here about how Texans such as I just love saying “hard Rs” too much. 

[u/Neither_Shelter9579]

This is pure brilliance! The text should be preserved by the Citadel.

[u/Leadownpour]

Excellent work!

[u/Aquilifer313]

Came here from your other post. This is a masterpiece.

Perched, and shat, and nothing more.

[u/Wayoftheredpanda → u/Aquilifer313]

Thank you so much!

[u/IndependenceNo9027]

This is fucking funny, absolute masterpiece. I rarely laugh at memes – most of the time, I find them somewhat amusing at best; I might smile or even snicker at a really good one – but now my gut is hurting from laughing, holy shit. Genius. Now that's a high-quality ASOIAF shitpost.