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I fear that I cannot

speak it thus,
methinks that a shakspearean tone would suit,
pray good lady, what doth thoust think.

(

bovine I'm so old, even my old is old, Tue 8 Oct 2002, 14:38, archived)

I think I shall obstain

from todays activities and completely emerse myself in thinking about my new boyf....

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm nice.

(

jiva nearly always up for a game of scrabble, Tue 8 Oct 2002, 14:40, archived)

The good Munkton

hath stole away your heart,
as a dove doth steal the millet.
Your heart is like an emtpy glass,
with his love, he doth fill it.

(

bovine I'm so old, even my old is old, Tue 8 Oct 2002, 14:46, archived)

you are a fine minstrel sirrah

(

munkt0n, Tue 8 Oct 2002, 14:49, archived)

this bloke will

need paying soon for the prose he keeps comming out with. May be you should go for the job as poet Lauriate. (someone check my spelling again please)

(

jiva nearly always up for a game of scrabble, Tue 8 Oct 2002, 14:54, archived)

close enough

it's laureate

(

munkt0n, Tue 8 Oct 2002, 15:05, archived)

word.

(

Beardo, Tue 8 Oct 2002, 14:50, archived)

A word can mean a hundred things

have numerous shades and tones,
it describes life and death in measures,
and tells of flesh and bones.

(

bovine I'm so old, even my old is old, Tue 8 Oct 2002, 14:54, archived)

Surely that's

*breaks a beat*
Mothafucka Munkton
Done stole your heart
Like a muthfuckin' dove steals millet!
Bitch muthafucka's like an empty crack pipe
But his muthafuckin' Uzi's gonna fill it!

*Strikes a pose: does that arthritic finger thing*

(Bob Hopelessness, Tue 8 Oct 2002, 15:00, archived)

buff tish

b'buff buff tish.
I can do the beat!

(

jiva nearly always up for a game of scrabble, Tue 8 Oct 2002, 15:06, archived)