The Reveller

The Lost Manuscript of a Poem Written by E A Poe
upon his Visit to the Raven Hotel, Blackpool, in 1844

Sipping on my midnight eggnog, I was sitting with my hot dog,
Candy floss and chocolate sponge log,
Sitting by my hotel door,
When I heard a drunken singing, church bell dinging,
Angel winging, pinging at my hotel door,
Quoth the Reveller, Bedroom Four?

Reveller, I did quoth quite sternly,
Get your coach straight back to Burnley,
Pound not at my hotel door,
For you’re not a patron resident, deposed president,
Chaste or penitent, key-holder of this hotel door,
Quoth the Reveller, Are you sure?

Reveller, I did say some weary,
Though my life be dull and dreary, I have never before seen ye,
Seen ye at this hotel door,
Get thee to the Beach of Pleasure, Tower of Leisure,
Point of measure, or the Garden Ballroom floor,
Quoth the Reveller, If you’re sure?

Reveller, you must pinch a penny, join up with your party henny,
And the driver they call Kenny, sitting now in coach bay four,
Go there lest you miss connection, need reflection,
Catch infection, from the walls or from the floor,
Quoth the Reveller, What a bore!

Take me to a house of decand, where the girls are fat and fecund,
To that place I went before,
Put me in my booth quite private, where the dancers whirl and gyrate,
Wearing thongs and nothing more,
Quoth the Reveller, Fun for sure!

So I took him to the sea front, took him on a souvenir hunt,
Took him to the candy store,
Bought him chocolate, bought him candy,
Bought him raisins soaked in brandy,
Fed him all the sweets in store,
Left him at the seafront retching, all his insides upwards fetching,
Left him at the strip club door.
Quoth the Reveller, Nevermore!

Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved