The following is a filk from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. I have added a few and
changed a few; the poor bard must be rolling in his grave this night.

Oh Xena Mine
By ArdentTly

Oh Xena mine! where art thou roaming?

Oh! stay and hear; your true love's coming,

That can moan both high and low.

Go no further, pretty sweeting;

Travel's end in lovers meeting,

As every wise woman doth know.*

Know that I love thee, pure and simple.

Your long strong arms and dainty dimple.

Let me gaze upon eyes of blue.

So come and love me, make me thine!

Take me, love; let our soul's entwine

Our love is pure, our love is true.

When, my love? not in the hereafter;

Present denial makes sorrowful laughter;

What's to come is still unsure:

In delay there lies no plenty;

Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,

Youth's a stuff that won't endure.*

Shall I kiss thee? Cuddling close?

>Your beauty is soft, just like the rose.

My love for thee grows more each day.

And I must have thee, warrior mine

Upon your loveliness, I shall dine;

And we shall love in every way.

THE END

*by the original Bard, William Shakespeare
Filking by ArdentTly

© ArdentTly December, 1998

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