The filk that wasn't.
To the tune of that major general song. Obviously.
You are the very model of a demon irredeemable,
I'm rather worried that my conscience simply won't be cleanable,
And 'though I know this sort of thing is very far from plannable
I'm hoping that ignoring things is not a sin that's damnable;
I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters theological,
I overlook how hugely tempting it may be to sod it all,
So long as I'm not watching I can fool myself it's mindable,
And occupy myself with crosswords and my books rebindable.
I'm very good at prophecies and tax returns and Britishness;
And though I will admit prolonged Miss Schaeffer ends in skittishness:
My mortal act could use some work, some polish, but it's cleanable,
While you pretend that you are still a demon irredeemable.
While I admit co-habitation skills are quite debatable
Your thoughts would be more use my dear were they communicatable,
And while these things, with work I mean, are certainly correctable
Continued lack of contact makes it hard to be respectable
I try to occupy my thoughts with hymns and prayers and higher things,
When all that I can think about is fingertips applied to wings
In short, you're being rather detrimental to my mental state
Perhaps reuse of manacles would prompt you to cooperate.
I never manage more than half an hour acting heavenly
The mental images alone will surely be the death of me
And where once I was innocent my thoughts are now not cleanable:
You are the very model of a demon irredeemable.
I know you've taken part in acts that are quite unforgiveable;
I may forgive you for the time that one was made reliveable,
The acts that you've inspired in me might not be so excusable,
I dread the time Himself might find my penances refusable.
And this is where I falter for we're coming to the crux of it
(Oh how I'd rather stop this song and go to feed the ducks a bit
But rhythm, metre, scansion, verse, not one of them deniable
I fear I must continue, end; my usual role - reliable).
For every step I'm taking gets me closer to a precipice,
And though I would deny it verse demands that I confess to this:
Though God forbid I ever should, and though I do not mean to Fall,
It only ever could be for a demon irredeemable.
You are the very model of a demon irredeemable,
I'm rather worried that my conscience simply won't be cleanable,
And 'though I know this sort of thing is very far from plannable
I'm hoping that ignoring things is not a sin that's damnable;
I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters theological,
I overlook how hugely tempting it may be to sod it all,
So long as I'm not watching I can fool myself it's mindable,
And occupy myself with crosswords and my books rebindable.
I'm very good at prophecies and tax returns and Britishness;
And though I will admit prolonged Miss Schaeffer ends in skittishness:
My mortal act could use some work, some polish, but it's cleanable,
While you pretend that you are still a demon irredeemable.
While I admit co-habitation skills are quite debatable
Your thoughts would be more use my dear were they communicatable,
And while these things, with work I mean, are certainly correctable
Continued lack of contact makes it hard to be respectable
I try to occupy my thoughts with hymns and prayers and higher things,
When all that I can think about is fingertips applied to wings
In short, you're being rather detrimental to my mental state
Perhaps reuse of manacles would prompt you to cooperate.
I never manage more than half an hour acting heavenly
The mental images alone will surely be the death of me
And where once I was innocent my thoughts are now not cleanable:
You are the very model of a demon irredeemable.
I know you've taken part in acts that are quite unforgiveable;
I may forgive you for the time that one was made reliveable,
The acts that you've inspired in me might not be so excusable,
I dread the time Himself might find my penances refusable.
And this is where I falter for we're coming to the crux of it
(Oh how I'd rather stop this song and go to feed the ducks a bit
But rhythm, metre, scansion, verse, not one of them deniable
I fear I must continue, end; my usual role - reliable).
For every step I'm taking gets me closer to a precipice,
And though I would deny it verse demands that I confess to this:
Though God forbid I ever should, and though I do not mean to Fall,
It only ever could be for a demon irredeemable.