Noel, noel, noel, noel,
And without her MacLeod's life is hell ...
Until, Amanda came along with her 'charm',
And promised to give Mac a life without harm,"
He said, 'por favor, do not steal all my stuff, and now maybe with you i shall get enough', "Respect, that is"
And then Amanda eyed him strangely and withdrew her blade,
'Till Mac gave in and offered an elegant glade
She said, "Mac, I don't need this, my car smells just fine,"
And he told her, "It doesn't, it's funky, here, smell mine."
"Duncan, please tell me what's up with this rhyme!"
"You don't like it?" he queried, "I do all the time."
"Mr. MacLeod, you'll drive me insane."
"So shall it be if you say it again."
"Duncan, you're crazy, quit rhyming my words!"
Realising the error in words -- her slips!
Aghast and confused, she decided: away!
And left poor MacLeod alone that fine day.
She wandered the streets of the City of Lights
And couldn't find find friends at that time of night.
Amanda decided to visit Methos
(Light! What rhymes with "methos"?)
Unfortunately, she had seen a ghost.
The ghost danced and swayed in the fine evening mist
And soon we find that it's a friend sorely missed!
But not by our fair raven-haired heroine,
Missed only by duncan because's he's NOT fine!
It seemed that Duncan was sick in the head;
He thought he saw Tessa returned from the dead!
But if this vision was by MacLeod,
Then as to why seen by Amanda I wonder HOW?
I finally fear I can blame the old man,
Who, feeling spiteful stirred in a can
Of vodka spiked orange juice making a screw-
Driver to flavor all that poor Mac knew
And, having Amanda for dinner that night,
The lass would imbibe the juice just as Mac might!
And so, knowng this, Methos ran away!
He did not wish to lose his head that day!
Disguised as mild Adam, the immie ran to a church,
where it said in the rules he could not be hurt.
Sorely miffed Amanda followed him there,
And pulled her rapier out of thin air!
She said, "Stupid man, do you see what you've done?"
"You've reduced Mac to mumbling about 'only one'!
"I can't deal," she continued, "this just isn't right."
And with that, she walked out into the dark night.
Methos was confused (yes again!) and then knew
Exactly what it was that he had to do
He walked out the church and into a bar,
Ordered himself several drinks and a star.
But the star wouldn't come, it was up in the sky
Too many drinks were imbibed by this guy!
But since he's an immie he took it quite nice
And then went home to have vodka on ice
His phone rang, he answered, and it turned out to be Joe!
Then Methos said, "well, what do you know!"
Joe grumbled, "Methos! Go meet with AA!"
Methos said he's an immie and that made it okay.
Joe got upset and then hung up the phone
And Methos wrote about his time in Rome!
His memoir was stopped by a ring at the door
But he already knew who was there just before
He answered it -- of course it was Amanda and Mac
"Gasp!" he gasped, "Oh, no! You're back!"
So she with her rapier* and Mac with his blade Decided that Methos ought to be slayed!
"NO!" cried poor Methos, and dialed a friend,
"You can't do this, mi amigo, this life cannot end!"
"It's you or it's me," grumbled poor drunken Mac,
"Yeah!" said Amanda, who was dressed all in black.
"What's up?" answered Richie, who had been sound asleep.
"Come quick!" ordered Methos, "Mac's going bleep!"
So Richie sped over on his wonderful bike,
And insisted that Mac should go home for the night
He saw that Amanda had stolen his blade,
So he took it right from her, and then took back his glade
(his apartment smelt funny)
And he yelled at bad Duncan, said, "What have we learned?"
"If I listen to her," Mac replied, "I'll be burned!"
"Right on!" agreed Richie, and hopped on his bike,
Finally Methos could sleep for the night!
And Amanda was sent to go be a nun
A vocation she was sure would not be fun! And then Amanda went back to her place,
Where poor Mr. Nick was awaiting her face.
"Nick!" cried she, taking aim with her sword,
"You! In here now! I would like a Word!"
So Nick happily did as his mistress command
Into the kitchen ran this poor loser man.
On the table there sat a green-looking meal
"Eat it!" she said, "Or your head I will steal!"
So tentatively Nick approached the green ham,
Ate it, and decided he'd be better with spam.
But of course, it was rotten and infected to boot
With salmonella in the raw eggs, but that's moot.
Because after dining, Nick Wolfe promptly died,
"Oh dear, how I hate to clean up," 'Manda sighed.
And so as a penance for the deed he had done,
She called Richie over to clean the dead one.
Disgused and grossed, Richie called Mac
"Duncan?" he said, "I have a favor to ask."
But the Scotsman refused to stoop to the task,
And so he pondered, and pondered, "Who shall I ask?"
Finally a light bulb went on, cried, "I know!
"I shall ask my favorite Watcher named Joe!
"Joe!" said he, "I've got something to do,
"but I'm all caught up, so maybe could you?"
Joe grumbled and sighed and said, "Fine, Fine."
But as soon as he left he called 'Thos of thine!
"NO!" replied Methos when asked of the deed,
"I refuse, I will not, it's the last thing I need!"
With a heavy heart and a sigh we come to poor Joe,
Who'd resigned to the fact that he had to go.
He got in the car, messy with sneakers and maps
(It was Peter's you see - Peter Sachs')
He drove to the place where the body did lay
And had it cleaned up in less than a day.
In truth only a few hours did it take
To clean up the mess that Amanda did make.
He disposed of Nick's corpse with a grace and an ease
In a dumpster out back that was plagued by fleas.
Joe was rewarded for accomplishing that,
And soon moved into Nick's old flat.
Amanda said, "Thanks! Now I'm rid of that guy!
"But where did you put the head, old guy?"
"Who're you callin' OLD, miss one thousand years?!
"I put it out back in the trash behind Sears!" And then the phone rang and brought wonderful news!
In one month's time we'd be brought a new muse!
The channel we adore for bringing SAAB and Sliders,
Shall now air old episodes of HIGHLANDER!!!
"What say ye?" asked Methos, from his flat far away.
I shall be back on TV, is that what you say?"
"Of course!" cried the fans, shouting up with one voice!
"This is the day that we shall rejoice!!" But now this darn poem shall come to an end
It's proprietor must go to bed.
If you find that I'm rhyming on morrow,
SHOOT ME, SHOOT ME,
And then call in Marrow.
She'll slay me with all of her knives and her bones!
On second thought, keep Marrow at home. Yes, I say. That is the way.
Good day, good day!
Away I may! Away!
*(She stole it from Richie)