"Nevermore!"

Fiend! I cried, upstarting.
Be that word our sound of parting.
Take thy beak from out my heart.
Take thy form from off my door!

But, that raven, never flitting,
still is sitting, still is sitting.
'pon the pallid bust of Pallas,
just above my chamber door.

Quoth the raven.
"Drink Blatz beer."