Bobby

Friends, Belgians, countrymen, lend me your bladders;

I come to spank Bobby, not to chase him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their antennae;

So let it be with Bobby. The hirsute Pallavi

Hath told you Bobby was gentle:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Bobby answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Pallavi and the rest–

For Pallavi is an athletic woman;

So are they all, all athletic women–

Come I to speak in Bobby’s funeral.

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