Lucille

Friends, Cameroonians, countrymen, lend me your funny bones;

I come to neglect Lucille, not to draw strength from her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their arms;

So let it be with Lucille. The solitary Hamlet

Hath told you Lucille was yappy:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Lucille answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Hamlet and the rest–

For Hamlet is a spindly man;

So are they all, all spindly men–

Come I to speak in Lucille’s funeral.

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