Oh no. . . !

So first they drugged me, then got me snared,
and then they took me to who knows where?
When I awoke my head did smart;
I thought that I heard some of them depart.

“This is a nighttime world,” I’s saying.
Upon me someone was preying.
I couldn’t see; a dark hood covered my eyes;
I wondered: just what they want, these guys?

Started to cry, “Save me. . . .”
but it was a waste of time.

Started to cry “Save me. . . .”
Then, an adenoidal whine.

I wondered if it could be a beaver
being cruelly chopped by a meat cleaver.
Could have been a baby pule—it was sure no “coo.”
Wasn’t a manly sing; it was a ghastly thing.
And then suddenly it hit me!

Increasingly cried, “Save me. . . .”
but it was a waste of time

No one there to save me, save me, save me
from the adenoidal whine.

It was the wailing of a 19-year-old schmuck.
I knew they intended to drive me nuts (crazy).
This was a form of torture that I couldn’t duck,
beyond anything Geneva Conventions had struck down—
this was really, truly a cruel head f**k.
It made my ears pound; I begged, “Please beat me or otherwise mistreat; slam
me down hard to the ground!” This noise could make any music lover weaken.
But they would not stop preying, and they would not stop playing
the awful high-pitched braying, which made me pine for slaying.

Oh no!!!!

Grave me, grave me, grave me. . . .
It drove me out of my mind.

Grave me, grave me, grave me. . . .
I’d prefer death to this whine.

Kept on: screech, screech. . . .
Sound just kept on: screech, screech. . . .
Kept on and on and on. . . .