As men stumble out of the tavern,
One certain sir catches my eye
His name, Edgar Allan Poe,
And I am his spy

He walks slightly crooked
With a brown bottle in hand
His eyes are impractical
As he falls in the sand

I watch him, still
With a little more care
For if he turns around,
I’ll be sure to give him a scare

He rounds the corner
To his unkempt home
He bumps into a dark man
And mumbles “Stupid foreigner!”

Finally he turns and gives out a shriek
His neighbors twirl to take a quick peek
But all they see is the deep, dark hall
And poor Edgar Allan Poe takes another long fall

Down the stairs and back to the street
Edgar is in a very silent sleep
As his head hits the last stair
His face cringes in despair

We reach our destination
His eyes at last are definitely closed
And his face is stuck in the same brutal pose
For now, the crime is done,
And I have more men to spy upon