Coleen

Friends, Argentinians, countrymen, lend me your palms;

I come to spill a piña colada on Coleen, not to block her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their larynxes;

So let it be with Coleen. The zany Cliff

Hath told you Coleen was obedient:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Coleen answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Cliff and the rest–

For Cliff is a lazy man;

So are they all, all lazy men–

Come I to speak in Coleen’s funeral.

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