Savannah

Friends, Armenians, countrymen, lend me your backs;

I come to yell at Savannah, not to listen to her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their pinkies;

So let it be with Savannah. The lanky Dylan

Hath told you Savannah was shifty:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Savannah answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Dylan and the rest–

For Dylan is a petulant man;

So are they all, all petulant men–

Come I to speak in Savannah’s funeral.

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