T.J.

Friends, Guatemalans, countrymen, lend me your hips;

I come to enlighten T.J., not to attack him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their throats;

So let it be with T.J.. The lethargic Cory

Hath told you T.J. was demented:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath T.J. answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Cory and the rest–

For Cory is a pigeon-toed man;

So are they all, all pigeon-toed men–

Come I to speak in T.J.’s funeral.

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