Lyrics

Milords and miladies of the royal court, Edgar, the swinging Edgar, Allan Poe's magnificent torch, "The Raven," as translated into the semantic "the hip." Now you see Poe didn't want that bird, he didn't need the bird, he didn't dig the bird, he didn't send for the bird, he didn't even know what aviary the bird came from! Yet that he did knock the bird on him post-paid he wouldn'ta dug it, 'cause he was hung in front by a chick by the name of Lenore, who had already (whew whew) swooped the satellite, but that didn't bug Eddie. He's still knocking that torch 'n call saying, "Can they see me in flip city?" But just like I said, so many times, when you don't want the bird, when you don't need the bird, when you haven't got the first possible use for the bird, (toot) that's when you get it, and that's what happened to poor Eddie. He say: It was a real drug midnight swoooooooooooooooah dreary I was goofing Beat and weary Over many a freakish volume of forgotten score When suddenly there came a tapping As if some cat were gently riffing Knocking rhythm at my pad's door. Ah, "'tis the landlady," I muttered On her broom she flies the rounding Sounding for her rent WHICH only this and nothing more Mmm, ooh, will I ever get out of this feeling? Mmmm, mmm... Ah, so solid I remember, It was in that wrought December And it's swingin', jumpin' ember Blew it's phantom 'pon the floor Groovily I woo'd the morrow Still hung I sought to borrow From my book kicks To knock the sorrow Sorrow for my gone Lenore For that sweet, square but swinging maiden Whom the fly chicks tagged Lenore Nameless here forevermore Ah, man And the silky wear deturning Of each upper curtain Moved me, hound me With freakish flipples Never dug before. So that now to cool the beating of my ticker I stood repeating, "'Tis some strange midnight stud That's sounding a money beat on my pad's door. A deuce to cool the morrow Or some juice to drown his sorrow Some lightweight riff this And nothing more. Jack!" I said, "Or Jilly, if I've crossed you. Ha ha. Don't jump sore For the solid truth is This cat was napping And so cool did you come tapping And so light hip you came rapping Rhythm at my pad's door That I was scarce sure I dug you!" Here I opened wide the slammer, Jack. Swhoosh, I dug the breeze And nothing more. Ooh, what are they trying to do to me? I'll show them...what do they think about...get my way out of this...why they...mmmm, what was that? Look out, look out, look out! Take it easy, take it easy, take it easy, take it easy! Stoned into the darkness peering Long I stood there I was hung there Flipped and fitting King spinning dreams No mortal cat had ever rode before But the gasser was unbroken Diggin' so hard my wig was goin' But nathin' shakin' nathin's sure Just one radar blip was goin' The whispered word: (swish swish) Lenore This I sounded and it sounded back (Swish swish), Lenore. This one sad lick and nothing more Oooh, why don't they leave me alone, why don't they leave me alone? They're draggin' me. Frsh! I backed into my pad Still turning All this jazz within me burning And again I dug the tapping A stronger beat then was before "Unsolid hip," says I, "I don't dig what that is jumpin in my window lattice. Let me get hip what the rat is And this big flip I will explore Let my pounders stay cool And this flip I will explore" (Swish swish) Jack, I drew a blank And nothing more. (Whoosh) - Who do they think they are to do this to me? Gone full out I found the shutter When with many a flip and flutter In there stomped a king sized bugbird, Jack From way back days of yore Not a minute tipped or hung he Not a minute brought or down he But with stance of king and queen He swung above my sweet pad's door Lit upon the bust of Pallas Sat goofing there and nothing more "Unsolid hip," said I, "That you're no craven Gasser grim and beat up raven Goofing for the night's Plutonian shore. Swing hip me to what thy tag is On the night's Plutonian shore." Flip the bugbird, "Nevermore." Solid wig me this bird to dig me Though it copped out not upon the score For we cannot help it being That no single human being Ever was so sent by seein' a wig like this Above his pad's door With such a tag as: Nevermore Now you see this blasted bugbird came bugging Edgar and gave him such a dreadful time of it that Edgar now wants to divorce the bird. He wants to expel the bird. He doesn't care whether the bird knew Lenore, Eleanor or any of these cats. He wants to blow the bird. So he - I think the bird put one too many Nevermores on him. I don't know how much they weigh but it was just enough to flip that little Eisenglas at the end of the fuse and (toot), blow the whole gig. Poe is now flipping. He looks at the bird and he says, "By this lick you have flipped my meter You nauseous gasser! You endless repeater! Screw before I blow my red hot stack! Go back to your Plutonian shore Leave no feather on my heather Take your black jazz blown together, Leave this pad my torch unbroken Screw from the roost above my door!" Flipped the bugbird, "Neezever Meezore."