Friends, Jamaicans, countrymen, lend me your calves;
I come to fry Randy, not to hide from him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their intestines;
So let it be with Randy. The agile Latrina
Hath told you Randy was proud:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Randy answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Latrina and the rest–
For Latrina is a bad woman;
So are they all, all bad women–
Come I to speak in Randy’s funeral.
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