Lyrics

The Source-Check

to "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly, there came a tapping As of someone gently rapping, rapping woke me in mid-snore "Tis some student," I muttered, "typing in the booth next door Only this, and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak November And each separate footnote drove me to the stakes that I deplore Desperately, I feared tomorrow;—vainly, I had sought to borrow From these books, a source, couldn't, though—so I threw them on the floor For these rare and precious volumes that I threw upon the floor Broken spines for evermore. "Not again!" I sighed with a groan, "another Interlib'ry loan! Author, author, be more temp'rate in your sourcing I implore! For it is I who must locate these obscure volumes you restate I can't use Westlaw or Lexis, those web site I so adore Microfiche, reporters, Restatements, periodicals galore Only those, and nothing more." Editors who pile this work on poor 2Ls who dare not shirk Won't accept all the editions over which mine tired eyes pore They have one in mind—not recent—there is just one the author meant To show change in legal doctrine since enlightened days of yore Just one rare and treasured copy, last seen when Kent walked this floor I will find it, nevermore! Pegasus, such a noble steed, led me to the one book I need Would they let me check it out and put it in my journal drawer? From the third floor reference section, I removed my lone selection And then tried to bring it with me to my desk on the 4th floor This I whispered, "Sir, please just this once, I've never asked before!" Quoth the desk clerk, "Nevermore." And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each fragile page it Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before Why did I have such trouble citing, did I sleep through Legal Writing? Why oh why those useful classes and TA did I ignore? Please give us a year of writing, and strike Reg State from the Core! Quoth Dean Schizer, "Nevermore." "Alas!" I cried out with true fear, "my journal deadline draws too near! Help! This footnote's from the same book as the one I saw before! Oh, I've forgotten, God forbid! Do I use supra, infra, id? And do I italicize foreign words like 'esprit de corps'?" If you small-cap journal titles, what of case names, I'm not sure! Quoth the Bluebook, "Underscore." "Foul editor," I cried, "You shrew, I've got much better things to do Like watching the misadventures of the happy girls Gilmore Hell, I'd even much rather go and do some work on my memo But instead I must do string cites—of three sources, maybe four!" "Shut the fuck up!" yelled the student in the carrel right next door I responded, "Bite me, whore."

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door "Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door Only this, and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating "Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door This it is, and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door That I scarce was sure I heard you"—here I opened wide the door Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore Tis the wind and nothing more!" Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Original lyrics copyright © 2004. All rights reserved.