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The Gobbler
by "Culpeper Hokie" (with apologies to E.A. Poe)
3/19/98

Once upon a midnight dreary, while George pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore -
While he nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping - rapping at his office door.
"'Tis some visitor," he muttered, "tapping at my office door -
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate bowl game wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly he wished the morrow; - vainly he had sought to borrow
From his books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Ronald -
For the rare and radiant athlete whom the angels name Curry -
Nameless here for evermore.

As the bowl scouts closed the curtain,
Thrilled him - filled him with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of his heart, he stood repeating,
"Oh, that must be Ronald - Ronald Curry
Ronald entreating entrance at my office door -
This it is and nothing more."

Presently his soul grew stronger; picked his nose and then no longer,
"Sir," said he, "or Madam, truly yours forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was plotting - plotting stealing some recruits.
And so faintly you came tapping - tapping at my office 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, long he stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Gobble!" -
This he whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Gobble!" -
Merely this and nothing more.

Then into his office turning, all his soul within him burning,
Soon again he heard a tapping, something louder than before.
"Surely," said he, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me throw my hat upon the floor.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore; -
'Tis Ronald and nothing more."

Open here he flung the window when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately fowl of the saintly Burg of Black.
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above his office door -
Perched upon a bust of TJ just above his office door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this maroon bird beguiling, his sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Turkey, stalking swiftly without hobble.
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Turkey, "Gobble."

Much he marveled 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 this his office door -
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Gobble."

But the Turkey, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered -
Till George scarcely more than muttered, "Other recruits have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my bowl Hopes have flown before,"
Then the bird said, "Gobble."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said George, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some jubilant master, who escaped a bowl-less Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one exuberance bore.
Till the joyous songs of his Hope the creature bore.
Of  'Gobble-Gobble evermore.'"

"Be those words our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" he shrieked, upstarting -
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Jeffersonian shore!
Leave no orange plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - My nose to pick and then to gobble.
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Turkey, "Gobble."

And the Turkey, never flitting, still is sitting - still is sitting
On the pallid bust of TJ just above George's door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a Demon that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And George's soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
Gobble-Gobble, evermore!

- Culpeper Hokie, March 1998

Addendum from Will:

An Internet search on "The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe" produces many poorly formatted and hard to read renditions of the poem.  Click here to see the best one I could find and to read Poe's original masterpiece.

Edgar Allen Poe attended UVa (notice I said "attended" - I don't think Mr. Poe actually earned a degree from there).   It is rumored, although it is not known for sure, that he wrote "The Raven" while he was a student there, a little-known fact that makes Culpeper's takeoff even more hilarious.

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