From: Cindy Ingram [cgi271@airmail.net]
Sent: Sunday, January 13, 2002 8:48 PM
To: FKSpiked@yahoogroups.com
Subject: [FKSpiked] Poetry: (With spoilers for recent eps) Spike's
Lament or Ode to a "Wrecked" Relationship

Here's my offering to the 1st Occasional Big Really Bloody Bad FKSpiked
Poetry Contest.  It's more Spike-ish than Mortal William-ish, so I don't
know if it qualifies under the rules. But it's certainly bad enough. <weg>

Oh ... and for those who may not be aware, "Wrecked" is the title of the
episode that began the morning after Buffy and Spike ... ahem, got together
... for the very first time.

This is, obviously, Spike's version of a love poem. ;-)


Spike's Lament
or, Ode to a "Wrecked" Relationship

It's been a week since the bump an' grind,
And you're drivin' me out of m' mind.
'Cause you still insist you can't come out an' boff.

When I come t' your house at night,
Your windows are locked up tight,
And the garlic's fairly screamin', "Bugger off!"

Ya know, for someone so effulgent,
You could be a li'l bit more indulgent
Of the evil deeds that linger in the past.

'Cause you may be the bloody Slayer,
But they don't call *ME* the Vampire Layer,
So don't go pointin' fingers quite so fast!

When we had our li'l romp,
I could 'a taken a chomp,
But I didn't, 'cause I love you, can't you see?

And instead of makin' my day (again),
You up and ran away (again),
An' left me stuck without a soddin' TV.

Buffy, you're a tease,
An' so bleedin' hard to please.
Sometimes I want to snap you right in two!

You're a right pain in the ass,
With any sense, I'd take a pass,
Don't know why my undead heart beats just for you.

Now, lest you bloody well forget,
I wasn't the one tha' started this, pet,
So stop gettin' your ruddy knickers in a twist.

You better treat me right,
Next time I come in sight,
Or I'll tell your pals tha' we've done more than kissed.

(And won't *YOU* be pissed?)

So no more punches in the nose,
Unless we're takin' off our clothes,
And you're whisperin' sweet nasties in my ear.

'Cause if you still ain't got the hint,
I'll tell you straight, you silly bint,
It's you, in all the world, I hold most dear.

(Except for maybe beer ... and the intoxicatin' smell of fear ...)

Now, I'm waitin' in my crypt,
With a bottle o' wine I nipped,
And a comfy pair of handcuffs just for you.

So get your cute li'l ass in gear,
And bring it over here,
And you won't be disappointed in the view.

Yours eternally,
Spike

(As charmingly dictated to Cindy Ingram)