‘Twas past midnight, damp and dreary, I in bed awake but
weary
Trying vainly to establish with sound slumber a rapport,
When I heard a sound so muffled, sounded like cards being
shuffled
Coming from the other side of my sturdy bedroom door.

I tossed and turned and said, “It is the wind and nothing
more”.

But the sound it was remaining. With bravado in me draining
I donned my robe and tiptoed to my sturdy bedroom door.
I opened it a crack, peeked out and saw the back
Of a man who was just sitting, playing cards upon the
floor.

“’Tis a nightmare of my mind,” I said, “Just this
and nothing more”.

‘Twas a cloak draped ‘cross his back and a Raven, shiny
black,
Was facing him and pacing in a circle on the floor.
My jaw dropped when I heard the soft voice of that huge
bird
Saying, “Deal me in this card game for a couple hands or
more”.

And the man tossed four chips to him; four blue chips and
nothing more.

Then I must have made a sound, for he slowly turned around
And his face was pale as misty, eerie fog that hugs the
shore.
Then he whispered to me low, “I’m the ghost of Allen
Poe
Who has come here to play poker as I did in days of yore.

’Tis a poker game I’m craving. Only this and nothing
more”.

“Won’t you sit in for a while?” he asked me with a
smile, 
“It will make a better card game than it was an hour
before”.
And, not wanting to incite him, I slowly walked beside him
Meekly asking what the stakes were as I sat down on the
floor.

“Penny-ante,” said the stranger. Quoth the Raven,
“Nothing more.”

From the start I had a streak of luck that reached its peak
By my winning all the pennies that the two had owned
before.
Then the man said, oh so slyly, (as the Raven grinned so
wryly),
“This low stake game we’re playing I’m beginning to
abhor.

“Then by all means”, said the Raven, ‘we should surely
play for more”.

Then the man, with gesture bold, from his cloak withdrew
some gold
In a bag that was so heavy that to move it was a chore.
His sly look I failed to heed for my soul was filled with
greed
As I saw the golden coins from the sack begin to pour.

“Yes,” I whispered weakly, “We should surely play for
more”.

Then he said in voice so solemn as he stacked coins in a
column,
“The hour grows late; I’m weary, so we’ll play but one
hand more.
If you win, my gold you’ll own. If I win then it’s your
home
That will be mine to have and keep…to keep
forevermore”.

Quoth the Raven: “Evermore”.

I said, “That’s fair, I feel.” Then the man began to
deal
And the cards I had were aces and the aces numbered four.
I said, “My hand is pat and I’m only sorry that
The pot has been established and that we can bet no
more.”

Quoth the Raven: “Bet some more!”

“He speaks true,” I then was told, and the man pulled
out more gold
And tossed it with the other coins that were strewn across
the floor.
“But I cannot match your bet,” I sadly said, “but,
yet,
I must have something left; something you two would
adore”.

Said the Raven, “You in bondage. Only this and nothing
more”.

“He speaks wisely”, said the man. “If you want to bet,
you can.
But lose and you’re our slave and servant now and
evermore”.
I stared at my four aces, smiled and looked at my guest’s
faces,
Sealed the bet and spread my aces down and out across the
floor.

Said the Raven in a whisper, “I see aces numb’ring
four!”

The face of Poe just glowered as his poker hand he lowered
‘Til it covered my four aces that were resting on the
floor.
Then amid a quiet hush, I saw his small straight flush
And knew that I was beaten and was doomed forevermore.

Said the Raven, “You in bondage here and now and
evermore”.

Now on dark nights, cold and dreary, my sore body grows so
weary
As I dust and wash and clean and sweep the droppings on the
floor.
While my master and his Raven live in comfort in their
haven
With their slave who’s held in bondage, held in bondage

Evermore.

Copyright 2001 - Phil Cerasoli