A raven and a writing-desk are quite alike, you see.
A writing-desk is made of wood. It's fashioned from a tree.
Which ravens sit on. That's not why. Listen, now, to me --
a raven's like a writing desk. The wood, now, that's the key.
Other things are built of wood. Chests, and chairs, and stools.
And coffins. No, don't turn away. Avoiding death's for fools.
You'll get one, too, when you die. It's nature's harshest school.
A coffin and a writing desk -- both hewn from wood, with tools.
A coffin's not for every man. It's something of a prize.
The soldier on the battlefield won't get one when he dies.
Not at first. Or not at all. They rot beneath the skies.
The men lie on the field, and bloat. The ravens eat the eyes.
A raven's like a writing desk. And here is why that's said:
A coffin's what you might have had -- but you get them, instead.