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Song Parodies -> "The Cravin'"

Original Song Title:

"The Raven"

Original Performer:

Edgar Allen Poe

Parody Song Title:

"The Cravin'"

Parody Written by:

Dee Range

The Lyrics

To scan perfectly, s'mores is pronounced as 1 syllable except when hyphenated (S'-mores) ;then pronounce it as 'some more'. And for anybody who doesn't know about s'mores, they are campfire cookies made with Graham crackers, chocolate bars and roasted marsmallows
Once upon a prison kitchen, as I cook for sinners, bitchin'
Over many a pail and tedious volume of half-rotten boar
As they swallowed, nearly choking, suddenly I started hoping
That I hadn't left the cookies, burning in the oven door
This is sinister, I shuddered, burning in my oven door

Eating this but cravin' s'mores

I remember I'd forgotten, guess it shows my brain is rottin'
As each separate burning cookie crumbled down upon the floor
Miserly I eye disaster, somehow I had cooked them faster
From their looks now hard as plaster, plaster what were once s'-mores
For right there the furious flaming tomb the oven flamed s'-mores

Burning them, I made some more

And the milk had sadly curdled, lumpy, stomach loudly gurgled
Gagged me, tagged me with bombastic tremors never felt before
"Tis some curlded milk repeating, exiting my stomach door
Just some curdled milk repeating, exiting my stomach door "

Sour it was, and that's fer shore

Hungrily my crave grew stronger, 'gurgitating milk no longer
"Well," said I, "can't eat 'em," guess I'll have to make some more
'Cause the first ones were too crunchy, and I madly have the munchies
And so quickly I start fixing, shove them in the oven door

Flaming soon were my s'-mores

Weeping at the dark mess, leering, long I stood there weeping, swearing
Pouting, screaming screams no convict ever dared to scream before
Guess the oven must be broken, 'cause the cookies sat there, smokin'
With a spatula I'm pokin' at the blistered, burned s'-mores

Nearly bliss, but now no more

Back into the kitchen, churning, in the bowl I hope I'm learning
Soon again I smell the burning, somewhat stronger than before
"Dammit", said I, "Dammit, there is something in my oven that is
Broken, guess the thermostat is causing blistering s'-mores
I will fix it in a minute" and those blistering s'-mores?

Threw 'em out and made some more

Open do I fling the oven, then with many a curse I shove in
When in stepped 'ol Martha Stewart, she of saintly days no more
Would the stock malfeasance make her now a self redeeming baker
There the queen of yore, the faker, lurked in front of oven door
Lurched upon the crumbs of cookies littering my kitchen floor

Lurched, and stared, at burning s'mores

Then this old cookin' chick stood frowning at my cookies way past browning
To the trash we chuck and throw them, in the prison garb we wore
(Martha) "Though your s'mores are black as raisins, I bet that you're still a-cravin'
Watch me work, you will be ravin', cravin' my delicious s'mores
Tell me what your ovens' game is, burning these pedestrian s'mores

You will burn them nevermore"

As I'm waiting there un-proudly she began to curse so loudly
Through the oven peeking little burning lumps of s'more
So I ran for help I'm fleeing, not believing what I'm seeing
Even now old Martha's seething...burned another batch of s'mores
Burned 'em beyond recognition, worse than those I burned before

Black as night, were her s'-mores

Now the Martha's spraying spittle, on her flaccid bust, said little
Just a phrase, as if her soul was in these words she did implore
Nothing poignant did she utter, no more curse words did she mutter
As I slowly paced and puttered, sweeping crumbs up from the floor
For my recipe she asked me, as her pride flew out the door


Shaken by her loud exalting, my reply was "I use saltine
Crackers, no choice in the matter, Grahams are never stocked or stored"
(MARTHA) "Tastes like some ungodly plaster, it's a pitiful disaster"
(ME)"Swallow fast, then swallow faster, then it doesn't taste so poor
'Cause I spray 'em with some paint, so they resemble real S'mores"

She then fainted on the floor

Now the Martha shows confusion, at my clever substitution
Mashed potatoes for marshmallows, in the middle of my s'mores
And brown chalk dust for the choc-late, suddenly she spit and hawked it
(Me) "Unlike you we have to fudge it, as our budget's cut once more"

She's still gagging, on the floor

There she sat, enraged and cussing, as I, silly boy, start fussing
As her scowling fiery eyes now burn just like my flaming s'mores
Then and there she to the trash points, my next batch had hit the flash point
Even oven mittens flaming from those frickkin' burnin' s'mores
Damn those mittens vi-lent flare up from their touching flaming s'mores


Now I thought, her hair is grayer, prob-ly from the smoke in layers
She slips on the crumbs, her foot falls, splayed out on the kitchen floor
"Bitch," she cries, "my God will rent thee! With these convicts He has sent me"
I said "Hell, you just resent me from the poisoning of the s'mores
Though my cooking's a disaster, in this kitchen I'm your master
When I tell you 'scrub it faster', you will do it" she swore

Cursed the Martha, "Damn the chores!"

"PROFIT!" said I, "Gave you power, here it's twenty cents an hour
Whether stamping plates, or whether washing sheets in laundry o're
Though you had more than you wanted, still you made the call, undaunted
Now your home's this prison, haunted, tell me truly, I implore
Is there cinnamon in carrot cake? And what is wrong with these s'-mores?"

Martha left and slammed the door

"Profit!" says I, "Martha's evil!"- profit shill, or else the devil
Why in hell did she deceive us, why the truth did she abhor?
Surely she ain't like Bin Laden, but against the truth was plottin'
As they grabbed her tainted hand,she's searching cookie jar for more
Just a brazen greedy maiden, reaching in the jar for more

Just rich Martha, wanting more

(Martha) "Give my word, I'm through with cheating, cash demeans," I heard her bleating
(Me) "Get thee back into the kitchen, for the night's draconian chores
Leave no black flame as you're bakin', do not lie I'll know you're fakin'
Dump the cookies, put the cake in, sweep the crumbs outside the door
Pull the stake out of your heart and get yer ass to makin' s'mores"

Quoth the Martha..."Never s'mores"

So the Martha, never weeping, still is sweeping, still is sweeping
With a solid heart of callus, just inside the kitchen door
But her eyes still have the scheming, of the public trust she's reaming
Of the spotlight she's still dreaming, but it's lockdown on the floor
And us poor souls in the prison, we lay gloating on the floor

We're still waiting...on S'-mores

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Original Song: 
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Voting Results

Pacing: 4.7
How Funny: 4.7
Overall Rating: 4.7

Total Votes: 31

Voting Breakdown

The following represent how many people voted for each category.

    Pacing How Funny Overall Rating
 1   1
 2   1
 3   0
 4   1
 5   28

User Comments

Comments are subject to review, and can be removed by the administration of the site at any time and for any reason.

Johnny D - October 18, 2004 - Report this comment's' 5's
alvin rhodes - October 18, 2004 - Report this comment
mind boggling....5s
John Barry - October 18, 2004 - Report this comment
Prodigious and brilliant. Do some more.
Ingeborg S. Nordén - October 18, 2004 - Report this comment
A great take on the awfulness of prison food and Martha Stewart's celebrity going to her head...5-5-5!
Dee Range - October 18, 2004 - Report this comment
Johnny D, Alvin, John Barry, and Ingeborg, many thanks!
Arwen - October 18, 2004 - Report this comment
I'm SUCH a fan, Dee! Excellent work!
Airfarcewon - October 18, 2004 - Report this comment
Not enough adjectives to describe this "Poe"rody...Fantastic and amazing are a couple...A lot of words, and must have been a lot of work...terrific..
Dee Range - October 18, 2004 - Report this comment
Arwen: right back at you, girl.....Airfarcewon, thank you so much. It was over four hours of steady work, and frazzled my brain to the flash point :-)
Michael Pacholek - October 18, 2004 - Report this comment
Poe gets Dee Ranged. Appropriate.
Paul Robinson - October 18, 2004 - Report this comment
Dee - You did MAHV-velous here...5's...Michael P. - shouldn't that have been "apropos", or perhaps "aprop-poe"?
Dee Range - October 18, 2004 - Report this comment
Michael P. and Paul, thank you so much
Stuart McArthur - October 18, 2004 - Report this comment
SUCH an ambitious project and some of the scanning was incredible!...."Guess the oven must be broken, 'cause the cookies sat there, smokin' With a spatula I'm pokin' at the blistered, burned s'-mores" - there's beauty in that - 555 (doesn't seem enough)
Dee Range - October 18, 2004 - Report this comment
Stuart, thank you so much. It helped that I had memorized The Raven for school, and was very familiar with it.
Ashkicksass - October 19, 2004 - Report this comment
DAMN! I am way beyond impressed...
Dee Range - October 19, 2004 - Report this comment
Ashkickass, thanks!
Big Mark - October 19, 2004 - Report this comment
Some of the verses are not quite with the original (either too little or too much wording) but overall 4-5-5.
Scathe - October 20, 2004 - Report this comment
he'll use that oven.. nevermore. :-D 5's
Dee Range - October 20, 2004 - Report this comment
Big Mark and Scathe, thank you
Jeff Reuben - October 21, 2004 - Report this comment
I have to admit that I'm reading this because I'm a Baltimore football fan. That said, very impressive!
Dee Range - October 25, 2004 - Report this comment
Jeff, thanks for looking!
Agrimorfee - October 28, 2004 - Report this comment
Will Poe turn in his grave? Evermore. 555 (now someone has to do Alan Parsons' "The Raven"!)
Jake A Ralphing (Luke Brattoni) - February 27, 2005 - Report this comment
Outstanding effort. Can't say I've ever had s'mores before, and after this I can't say I want to! Charred remains of 5s.
narfbelong - April 05, 2007 - Report this comment
GREAT ! it was the best raven parody i've read keep it up

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