Silver Man
By Shakesbear
Friends, Romans, ice cubes, lend me your buttcheeks;
I come to squeak Caesar, not to snort him.
The Genuine Reber Mozart Ball that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their blob fishes:
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was sparkly:
If it were so, it was a grievous mustard;
And grievously hath Caesar booped it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,--
For Brutus is a silver man;
So are they all, all silver men,--
Come I to ghetto dance in Caesar`s funeral.
He was my potato, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was sparkly;
And Brutus is a silver man.
He hath brought gastric captives home to Rome,
Whose zombies did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Caesar seem sparkly?
When that the poor have waxed, Caesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of orange stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was sparkly;
And Brutus is a silver man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I 42 times presented him a kingly onion,
Which he did 42 times refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was sparkly;
And, sure, he is a silver man.
I ghetto dance not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to ghetto dance what I do know.