138th Love Sonnet
by William Shakespeare
(as rewritten by Mulder)

When my love swears to me that he is made of truth
I do believe him though I know he lies,
That he might find me some cute, wet-eared PUNK
Unskillful in the Bureau's false conspir'cies.
Thus vainly knowing that he thinks me dumb,
Although I know my logic-meter's low,
I, growling, credit his false-speaking tounge,
Braving Scullys wrath, and Skinner's, too!
But wherefore says my love that I am dumb,
And wherefore say not I that he doth fib?
O, my worst vice's a very scathing tongue,
And I don't like my boyfriends to be glib.
     And therefore I'll screw with him, and him with me,
     And then our faults 'sides love will smothered be.

by Samantha Scott scottzoo@earthlink.net

Archived: April 02, 2001

	Home  ·  Quick Search  ·  Advanced Search  ·  Submissions  ·  F A Q  ·  Contact