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"Need voice talent"

I'm looking for someone with a dark, deep Vincent Price-like voice to record a poem I've written so I can animate to it.

I'm not going to pay you or anything, I just need the help. :) Anyone with a clear and dark enough voice?

Thanks anywho

I have quite a deep voice. It has been described as "sexy" by many a chavette I've met...hey, that rhymes! I should be a poet too!

Whenever I try I sound slightly American. Is that a good thing?

Can't be bothered to try looking for the link, so here:

In a lonely corner of a distinctly lonely room,
Sat a boy who did little but anticipate his doom,
A reclusive and an outcast, no comfort for this child,
But there he sat and dreamt, and let his thoughts run wild,
Disaster and tragedy, it seemed, were always brought on him,
This poor and lonely boy, who's only name was Tim.

From corners Tim would watch in school, seated neat against the wall,
His skin would crawl and itch from children's laughter in the hall,
And every boy but he it seemed would sit with girl in hand,
Their prized possession all of them, their gold they made from sand,
Tim would sneer and ignore all these fair children and their smiles,
But wondered what it would be like, to have someone, all the while.

Tim knew that to date would be of pure disaster,
For girls from him had never ran as terrified or faster,
For him to wear his Sunday best to court a girl felt cheap,
And Tim knew his beauty fell further than skin deep,
So Tim devised a foolproof plan for his love to be of birth,
From a beauty sewn together from the dead that lay in earth!

For fourteen nights and days Tim dug up his fairest maid,
From the face and arms of women that had been rest to laid,
Stitching up his lover on his mother's giant loom,
He built an operating theatre in the roof above his room,
And when the night arrived, with his fully sewn up wife,
Lightning struck the theatre, and gave the monster life!

At first it went so well, they both had fell in love,
Though romance was quite distressing as Tim was forced to wear a glove,
For touching and caressing her, a horrendous task to take,
Because every slightest movement would make her dead skin flake,
But Tim was even undismayed by the very tiny hitch-ing,
Of waking in the morning with his hair stuck to her stitching.

But time went on and love grew old and want for more did Tim,
Not even love of his undead bride could keep them from feeling grim,
When Tim returned from school at eve' and simply wished to talk,
His bride it seemed had other plans, her eyes on him like a hawk,
She held a hair into his face and asked from whence it came,
For blond hairs in his clothes had come from not her matted mane.

Waking’s in the night began to trouble poor young Tim,
As his bride had lain awake at night with wish to talk to him,
When Tim would turn his head to her and ask her what about,
The bride would screw her face up and begin to yell and shout,
'YOU DON'T LOVE ME ANYMORE' The girl screamed out at night,
Then she'd settle back to bed and turn off the bedside light.

Her paranoia began at once to drive young Tim insane,
He sat in corners once again to huddle into pain,
'This woman birth of I' said he 'This beast has me now paid'
'For I will take what I create and force it now unmade.'
A plan again into his mind had come to be thought out,
And Tim waited in the shadows for his bride to come about.

The monster girl crept up at night to get food from the kitchen,
When Tim leapt on her from behind and began to tear her stitching,
'Midnight snacking at this hour! And now what of your diet?'
As Tim pulled her limb from limb, the house became dead quiet,
No noise to hear from the bride again, no whine or pine or groan,
And at once Tim realised, he was again, alone.

So let this be a lesson to all the single girls and boys,
That love will follow after you have outgrown all your toys,
And if you're tempted to dream up the love you wish you truly had,
Then realise now that the temptation can only lead to bad,
For the perfect love I think you'll find is not one you can create,
So if you find yourself alone, then I'll guess you'll have to wait.

Can we see the poem?

I would have but i've got a stupid london boy accent, shame.

There is only one Vincent Price.

I'm looking for someone with a dark, deep Vincent Price-like voice to record a poem I've written so I can animate to it.

I'm not going to pay you or anything, I just need the help. :) Anyone with a clear and dark enough voice?

Thanks anywho