Edward Gorey's Birthday!

In honor of Edward Gorey's birthday (today), we knew for sure that we would create a cocktail. I guess it's a given that it would be called 'Zilla's Demise' (snatched off the pages of the Gashley Crumb Tinies).  On Sunday night, however, I got it in my head to write an original Goreyesque verse and illustrate it with a few original drawings (that are HUGE hat tips to Gorey)....
There will only ever be one Edward Gorey, but in his sad absence, here's my tribute:
(formatting is both a nightmare and a mystery with these blog spaces... bear with me)

The sound of the bell was both wild and emphatic

Zilla donned her galoshes and slunk down from the attic

 On the famous sofa were the Baron and Miss Squill

He very much regretted she was dangerously ill

Mr. Earbrass danced with Mother, who was clutching a libretto

Father used his bowler hat to hide a rusty, dull stiletto

The alarming Earl of Thump brandished a broken old umbrella

And mistook it for his partner when he danced a tarantella 

The brioches and madeleines were a peculiar shade of green

Beside the bowl of tacks there was a heathenish tureen.

Zilla hid behind a vase bechoked with artificial flowers

And listened to the Reverend Flannel yawning for two hours

Mrs. Titus Blotter, when confronted on her marriage

Admitted it was consummated in a brougham carriage

To poor Miss Squill, the doctor said there may yet be a cure

That’s made by mixing thumbtacks and tuft of ferret fur

When he said it was a joke she cried ‘you monstrous beast’

‘I’ll kill you with a spade or something worse, at least’

Dressed in red Alfreda Scumble still refused to mourn

Although she’d killed her husband with an alabaster faun

Lord Hammerclaw had grown a most abandoned looking beard

That made him look quite vulgar and uncommonly weird

The unwelcome Edmund Boggles had a beastly, bloated mole

That Edgar Grapples likened to a smallish dinner roll

 The last one to arrive was the deranged young ballerina

Who looked like an enormous moth and played the concertina

 

Large hailstones began to fall while they were eating grapes

The size of china doorknobs and in similar, lewd shapes

The young curate was the first to go outside and ascertain

The origin of what that had caused a pooling reddish stain

Miss Stringless heard a wailing sound from deep inside her veil 

The knot of tulle and netting helped absorb the rasping squeal 

Miss Underfold was heading down the slope beside the lake

Miss Splaytoes and the others followed, carrying the cake

They all left gin martinis when they tripped out in the dark

Some had guilty consciences, but some thought it a lark

Zilla planned to drink them all- on that point she was certain

Then, she’d steal a spotted dick and hide behind the curtain

She drank the first fifteen with a licentious sort of relish

But she despaired, on the sixteenth- the taste was truly hellish
 

 Her last thought was that Mother would be back soon to chastise

But Mother didn’t get the chance-- before Zilla’s demise