Oh, Oh, Once upon a photo blurry, while I pondered full of worry, over many I hate and furious ticket one mid-summer eve.

While I scribbled points for talking, suddenly there came a knocking, as of someone gently caulking, caulking up my window eaves.

Tis some idiot, I prattled.

Braddling my window eaves.

Fans whose teams have not achieved.

Oh, and sadly I was sober, in the middle of October,

and the storied ghosts, moreover, in my books brought no reprieve,

so that then to stop the clamor in my mind I stood and stammered.

Tis some idiot enamored with the sports they do perceive, some huge ass-hole watching all the cable sports that they receive that it is so I believe

presently my patient's wearing standing thin with nostrils flaring

dude said I or lady truly I am starting to with nostrils flaring. Dude!

I truly I am starting to get peeved.

But the fact is I was reading and your shity team's retreating and your yellings causing

beating beating at my windows eaves.

Other neighbors must have heard you.

Quickly up I rolled my sleeves.

Silence then, like Christmas Eve.

Open here I flung the curtain, when with swiftness sure and certain, in their lept a cheeky

grimly of the type that's sure to grieve.

Not a happy high he offered, not a Chesterfield he proffered but with presents purely priggish perched above my window weave on a bust of famous

Beethoven just above my window eve, perched and sat and wouldn't leave.

Still, this silly cryptids actions were a welcome new distraction, by the strange and rare

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