- Area: Poetsmus -------------------------------------------------------------
  Msg#: 47                                           Date: 05-14-96  23:03
  From: Phlod Firefly                                Read: Yes    Replied: No
    To: All                                          Mark:
  Subj: A parody of E.A.Poe's "Th
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   "The Phone"

     Hear the ringing of the phone-
            Cursed phone!
    What a world of people who can talk and chat and groan!
     How they jabber, jabber, jabber,
             all day long into the night!
     They seem so happy as the mumble
     to their 'circle', just a jumble
        of their mish-mash of delight;
             Using lines, lines, lines,
             There's no hope of quiet times,
     Leave their heartfelt jubilation that so loudly does intone
       From the phone, phone, phone, phone,
            Phone, phone, phone-
     From the gossip and the chatter on the phone.


     Hear the pealing of the phone,
        Dratted phone!
    What a pain to answer with a very heartfelt groan!
        In the darkest dead of night,
        How you wake from your respite!-
          From the sharp and squealing notes,
                And out of tune,
         What a painful tune does slice
        Through your head as you do waken, while you hope
                It will end soon!
             Oh, it doesn't seems to slow,
        When a blast of dischord torrentially blows!
                How it has shown,
                How you've known
           That the caller will just drone
             about his problems. How you've grown
         To hate the pealing and the squealing
             Of the phone, phone, phone-
       Of the phone, phone, phone, phone,
                Phone, phone, phone-
    Of the blasting, not relaxing, of the phone!


     Hear the loud unceasing phone-
        Stupid phone!
    What a tale of touchiness it's turbulence intones!
      As you stand within the shower
      How it screams out with all power!
        Too much annoyed to speak,
        You can only shriek, shriek,
           As a 'loon',
    In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the caller-
    In a mad expostulation towards the deaf and stupid caller,
        Getting drier, drier, drier,
        With a desperate desire,
      And a sadistic endeavor
      now to silence it, or never,
    With a bat or a knife or spoon.
    Oh, the phone, phone, phone!
      How you think of it alone
        You are incensed!
      How you can slice and slash and gore!
      What a horror you outpour
    On the buttons, on the handset, on the desk!
        Yet your ear, it fully knows,
          By the twanging
          And the clanging,
        How the carnage ebbs and flows;
      Yet your your ear distinctly tells,
          In the jangling
          And the wrangling,
        How the destruction does swell,
      By the clinking or the ringing in the weak and tiny phone-
            In the phone-
        In the phone, phone, phone, phone,
                Phone, phone, phone-
        In the breaking and the shaking of the phone!


                                            Phlod Firefly 6/4/95