O Kenshin! My Kenshin!

1


O Kenshin! My Kenshin! Your movie have I seen;

Each night I've watched an episode, and rewound certain scenes;

Your plight revealed, your pain I feel, your anger so engaging;

Your amber eyes, your hair unbound, I love to watch you raging:

But O Sweet! Sweet! Sweet!

This Rurouni fights instead

of hitokiri Battousai,

and still the wicked dread!


2

O Kenshin! my Kenshin! Rise up and do proceed

to wipe the floor with villains' heads, I love to watch them bleed!

For you I sit awake at night, to hear you say "oro!"

For you I pine, this sleepy girl, de gozaru yo;

Here Kenshin! dear swordsman!

Crossed scars and hair of red,

and hitokiri Battousai

lurking in your head.



3

My Kenshin does not answer, for he does not exist,

but in the minds of fic writers, and every fan artist;

The perfect man, so strong and brave, who cooks and shops and cleans,

and treats each girl that he protects as if she were a queen.

Away, O dorks, begone, O jerks!

For I would have, instead

the hitokiri Battousai,

or Rurouni, in my bed.


^_^



(C) JKD '01 Please do not use without permission.

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(ORIGINAL "O Captain! My Captain!" By Walt Whitman)



1

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.


2

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills;

For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding;

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head;

It is some dream that on the deck,

You've fallen cold and dead.


3

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;

The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;

From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

But I, with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.




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