Disclaimer: The names of the characters, the setting, the entire Moulin Rouge story belongs to a brilliant genius named Baz Luhrmann (and a bunch of other people, companies, etc. I'm sure...). The Raven belongs to Edgar Allen Poe, and this is largely based upon that, both in context and in rhyme scheme.

The Bird

Once upon a midnight lonely, as I worked half-minded only

Through the night on piling pages of a certain grievous scene,

Though the night afore was muted, then the silence was polluted

Came a tapping, undisputed, tapping at my window screen.

"'Tis the wind again," I grumbled, "It is blowing at my screen.

"That is all it's ever been."

Oh, the moon that night shone brightly, as it did, this season, nightly

And its glow was cast down whitely, etching shadows long and lean.

Each night I had spent there, grieving, in a state of disbelieving

In the passing, in the leaving of my dearly loved, Satine --

In the cruel robb'ry from me of my lover, my Satine

Whose name now will go unseen.

As the "wind" continued tapping, soon it turned to more a rapping

An impatient sort of flapping, flapping from outside my screen.

With a sigh, from my chair rising (for the sound was agonizing)

To the screen I went, chastising this distraction from my scene.

When I pushed aside the curtain, wond'ring what it might have been,

Only darkness could be seen.

But the air was still there, showing that outside no wind was blowing

Soon my mind was overflowing – what was tapping at my screen?

As I stood there, silent, dreading, came my voice, the silence shredding;

I spoke softly, whisper threading through the air. I said, "Satine!"

This I uttered, but returned an empty whisper of "Satine!"

From my darkened window screen.

Now the myst'ry was unnerving, and I mourned: how undeserving

I was, now to be observing this nightmarish, haunting scene!

But no sooner had I turned, it seemed to know I had adjourned it

For the tapping had returned, it went on rapping at my screen.

"Have I drowned," I asked myself, "in my late sea of absinthe green?

"The wind's all it's ever been!"

Now I opened up the latching – with a dainty little scratching

Climbed onto the sill a hatchling that belonged to my Satine.

In it fluttered, home at last, now – as I watched from there, aghast, the

Little bird flew right on past me to its cage next to the screen --

Perched upon its tarnished cage as if away it'd never been,

Air as haughty as a queen.

Something eerie, something twisted seemed about this bird existed

Surely ne'er its stare desisted – such an eye I'd never seen.

"Tell me, what game are you making?" I asked of it, vocals quaking,

"And what purpose have you, waking at this hour to cry, 'Satine?'

"Just what are you, fiendish fellow, to remind me of Satine?"

Said the bird then, "Never been."

By this, I was disconcerted – its eyes had not yet averted --

For one morning a deserted cage was all that I had seen.

"When Satine's now freed soul flew, you took your leave and left me too, you

"Took your freedom that was due – you have returned, so where's Satine?

"Unless you're to leave, then tell me, do you see my dear Satine?"

But the bird said, "Never been."

"What demonic creature be you, and why have you chosen me to

"Curse, you thing of evil, you who speaketh 'never been?'"

This I cried in frightful terror, "Surely you, damnable bearer

"Have made catastrophic error, for there was a girl, Satine!"

And the passion of my claim rang, filling all the air between.

Said the bird, though, "Never been."

"Then get out, and leave me grieving; it's high time that you were leaving

"Find another soul for thieving!" I again thrust out the screen,

"Unless you would take me, likewise, to the place which I now realize

"Must be like a hell if compromised by beings such as thee!
"Take me to the place you keep her, to your 'Never, Ever Been!"

But the bird could not be seen.

And now Christian had to wonder,

Had it ever truly been?