Echo

A poem.

H.P. Lovecraft’s poem ‘Nemesis’ set to the tune of Billy Joel’s song ‘Piano Man’

Someone Realized An HP Lovecraft Poem Maps Perfectly to Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” You can guess what happened next.

julianvelard

The internet made me do it. H.P Lovecraft’s Nemesis mashed up with Billy Joel’s Piano Man. Had to cut a couple lines to get it to fit. Sorry H.P.!

Lyrics:

Thro’ the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-moon’d abysses of night,
I have liv’d o’er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.

I have whirl’d with the earth at the dawning,
When the sky was a vaporous flame:
I have seen the dark universe yawning,
Where the black planets roll without aim;
Where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge or lustre or name.

I had drifted o’er seas without ending,
Under sinister grey-clouded skies
That the many-fork’d lightning is rending,
That resound with hysterical cries;
With the moans of invisible daemons that out of the green waters rise.

I have plung’d like a deer thro’ the arches
Of the hoary primoridal grove,
Where the oaks feel the presence that marches
And stalks on where no spirit dares rove;

I have stumbled by cave-ridden mountains
That rise barren and bleak from the plain,
I have drunk of the fog-foetid fountains
That ooze down to the marsh and the main;And in hot cursed tarns I have seen things I care not to gaze on again.

I have scann’d the vast ivy-clad palace,
I have trod its untenanted hall,
Where the moon writhing up from the valleys
Shews the tapestried things on the wall;
Strange figures discordantly woven, which I cannot endure to recall.

I have peer’d from the casement in wonder
At the mouldering meadows around,
At the many-roof’d village laid under
The curse of a grave-girdled ground;

I have haunted the tombs of the ages,
I have flown on the pinions of fear
Where the smoke-belching Erebus rages,
Where the jokulls loom snow-clad and drear:
And in realms where the sun of the desert consumes what it never can cheer.

I was old when the Pharaohs first mounted
The jewel-deck’d throne by the Nile;
I was old in those epochs uncounted
When I, and I only, was vile;

Oh, great was the sin of my spirit,
And great is the reach of its doom;
Not the pity of Heaven can cheer it,
Nor can respite be found in the tomb:
Down the infinite aeons come beating the wings of unmerciful gloom.

Thro’ the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-moon’d abysses of night,
I have liv’d o’er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.

Cheese Curd for Bait, by James McIntyre

Cheese is the New Cool

Cheese Curd for Bait

 

The following adventure was participated in by Mr. J. Podmore and Mr. W. D. Grant at Matheson’s Cold Spring Cheese Factory in Zorra, 1888.

 

Cheese buyers in hours of leisure

Combine business with pleasure,

And when they wish to go abroad

They take their gun and fishing rod.

 

This tale is true we pledge our word,

They baited hook with a piece of curd,

And let the rod hang from the boat,

While curd and hook on pond did float.

 

And then they start for sport and fun,

To try their luck with the shot gun,

And quick they raised from their cover,

Then brought low eight brace of plover.

 

Now to the pond they do return,

But loss of rod they have to mourn,

They see it rushing through the water,

And wonder what can be the matter.

 

But…

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