A stranger and nothing more?

Edgar Allan Poe (a.k.a. that funny little bloke named Edgar)

He listens to a raven singing nevermore,

Chatting with his long lost sea queens,

While drinking abstinence and sitting in his rose-covered cottage,

That funny little bloke named Edgar,

As a child saw his mother die,

T’was T.B., this be not a lie,

That traumatized little bloke named Edgar,

Soon he was adopted by the Poes,

Fell in love with a beauty most rare,

But, she did not care,

So, began Edgar’s woes,

That heartbroken bloke named Edgar,

Casted out of his foster home was he,

Like an accursed stone,

That black sheep of the family little bloke named Edgar,

Got a writing job and then quit,

Then, went back to writing stories of wit,

Writing poems and stories that were most macabre,

That poor, dour, little bloke named Edgar,

Suddenly, politicians rise up,

And over-whelmed him with an close and constant alcoholic drink,

To make him vote without the chance to wink,

To create a large following in the polls,I think?

So, ends that funny, traumatized, heartbroken, black sheep of the family, poor, dour, and now no more little bloke named Edgar.

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