Motormouth

Friends, Sri Lankans, countrymen, lend me your hangnails;

I come to cuddle Motormouth, not to go out with her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their eyelids;

So let it be with Motormouth. The blubbery Mookie

Hath told you Motormouth was powerful:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Motormouth answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Mookie and the rest–

For Mookie is a prissy man;

So are they all, all prissy men–

Come I to speak in Motormouth’s funeral.

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