Angel lurked in shadows deepe
And watched the maiden lithe and sleeke.
Plumpe lips did lick and suck the sweet
and fruity goodness of that treat.
“She will be myne,” he softly swore,
but then remember’d curséd whore,
who’d stripped him of depravity
condemning him to chastity.
“Foul mother of my dark rebirth,”
he cried, not knowing which was worse.
To watch the beauty from afar
with prick in hand whilst tossing hard.
Or leave the maiden to her fate
And run away ‘fore twas too late.
His heart it was a dead and thumping
while his cock he was a pumping.
When streams of jizz did from him come
whilst staring closely at her bum.
He knew his unlife now was set
And went to find a house to let.
Fair maiden did fight tooth and nail
To save the town of Sunnydale.
With friends as fierce and brave as she
they did fulfil her destinye.
Angel, the beast of which we’re speaking,
hid in shrub and caused much shrieking.
But Buff, bewitched by vampyre charms,
did promptly fall into his arms.
For months and weeks they did abstain,
but lust and magicke worked their claim,
and forced the lovers quick to bed
Where sex was had, then Angel said,
“Now I am evil and will kill
you and your Scoobies for a thrill.”
“So no,” said Buffy, “Not going to be.
Now take your cowskin pants and flee.”
Angel ranted and he shouted.
He killed a fish and then was outed
by his mixed up Grandyesone Spyke
Who wanted Angel him to like.
Not tiny wenches with blonde locks
Who’s destiny was vampire cocks.
Please forgive me, I’m insane
Vampire slaying was her game.
Angel hated all the gang. He
was all grrr and very fangy.
The spell to rid him of his leather
Went all wrong and he did tether
Giles the watcher to a chair
While Angel he did prowl his lair.
Planning to Acathla raise
To bring about the end of days.
But Spike was jealous and did whack
The mean old vampyre on the back.
Dru did scream and tear her hair
As Spike did rise up from his chair
and turn upon their evil daddye
Who Dru loved most when he was baddy.
Buffy took the chance to stick
A great big sword through Angel’s prick.
Again I’m sorry, please forgive me.
I struggle with the rhyming storye.
So to sum our tale of woe up
Angelus died and that will sew up
loose ends all. What’s left for me?
To write the tale of season three.
But fear ye not, I am quite tired.
My rhyming skills they have expired.
Ye Endye
DONE