Once upon a weekend bleary, after working to exhaustion (nearly)
on the humphrey house and yard till our muscles were all sore
while we kicked back, just talking, laughing, suddenly there came a tapping
as of someone's cane just rapping, tapping on the fence-gate door.
"It's just some kids," Jason said," tapping on the fence-gate door
Only this, and nothing more."
But now GRAMMA, never moving, still is sitting, still is sitting
In the window facing eastward, silent on the second floor
Sitting in her rocking chair as days go by she's always there
and the light behind her streaming throws her shadow on the fence-gate door.
And as we wonder, will we ever, complete this house, our big endeavor?
We hear the whispered, "never, never!"
Quoth GRAMMA, "Nevermore."