Jim Bob

Friends, Kazakhstanis, countrymen, lend me your larynxes;

I come to double-cross Jim Bob, not to imitate him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their waists;

So let it be with Jim Bob. The homely Lorrie

Hath told you Jim Bob was hungry:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Jim Bob answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Lorrie and the rest–

For Lorrie is a statuesque woman;

So are they all, all statuesque women–

Come I to speak in Jim Bob’s funeral.

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