Flo

Friends, Belgians, countrymen, lend me your eyeballs;

I come to trust Flo, not to fool her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their pituitary glands;

So let it be with Flo. The statuesque Randy

Hath told you Flo was dowdy:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Flo answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Randy and the rest–

For Randy is a brave man;

So are they all, all brave men–

Come I to speak in Flo’s funeral.

Next Chapter