(with apologies to original Ravens fan, E.A. Poe)
Once upon a Sunday clearly, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and spurious memory of playoff wins galore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my locker door,
“Tis some reporter,” I muttered, “tapping at my locker door –
Only this, and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember back to when I lost my temper,
When any single hope of victory wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow – how I wished not to remember,
From my deepest depths of sorrow—sorrow for the brutal 2009 disaster,
For the brutal and vicious smackdown I endured on that vicious score.
Nameless here for evermore.
And the brutish mean uncertain rustling of each purple Raven
Scared me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
“’Tis some reporter entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some early reporter entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is and nothing more...