Archive for the ‘parody’ Category

Friends, Romans, countrymen,

Lend me your tears;

I will show a trick or two

Use them to ‘ffect.

What I do not feel I can with your tears

Buy me laurel of the dead as my own.

(Aside) I am their head and the mob

No head but emotions as slop.

The noble Brutus has told and you nod for all he said;

So You shall, but leave your hot tears for me.

Grievously shall it be a flood damm’d,

Till I rouse you to lend bitter tears.

Oh Judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts

Taken at the flood of the rabble!

Original Version:  Julius Caesar:  Act III sc.ii

Friends, Romans, countrymen,

Lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest–
For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men–
Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

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When we two argued

Sense was already lost;

To words thrown offhand

With cliches I reposte.

Eyes pale fire with ire spew’d,

Not peace I sought here-

But word for word nothing gained

Than we no more friends are.

Original Version:

When we two parted

In silence and tears,

Half broken-hearted

To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold,

Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this.

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Oh Rose thou art sick!

But still walking the street

You think it will cure

Your poor raddled meat?

For a piece of bread

Must we all walk

In health or in despair

While Disease an’ Death stalk?

Original Version:

O Rose, thou art sick!

The invisible worm

That flies in the night,

In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed

Of crimson joy:

And his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy.

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Good night,good night! farting is such sweet relief

And my love is stone deaf beyond all belief. (Romeo and Juliet)


I wish I could remember the first kiss

First dime, first moment I broke the casino;

If bright or dim the dollar,- it trebles

Come Summer or winter I can add

My worth in hard currency,Oh boy! 

What on earth is this first kiss-

Damn well I know what is in a kiss

But without the face to go by I rather

fall back on what I can count and add up.

(The first day-Christina Rossetti)


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If I should buy think this of me:

That there is a sucker born every hour

Such is our misbegotten world of mart:

One euro I dole out, -sweat, blood and toil

Have in this bit of my manhood consumed,

And what for I throw it all away, think it, sir?

I seek not your wares, trifles as they are

But for one bit of euro our zero lives tangle

And quarter of an hour I may hold a man

And look with no rancor, disgust or pity.


Original version:

If I should die, think only this of me:

That there’s some corner of a foreign field

That is forever England. There shall be

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;

A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,… 


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The naysayers came down like Jack and Jill of old

How sad was that to go up unbelieving:

And the pail of their past left behind: it was ill

To go up believing in nothing! It serves right!


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All the world is a cage

And all the men and women merely shut in:

They have their grand stands and low stools

To sit or wax wroth in righteous ire

upon principles they never practise.


One man in his time is many things

So well he notes the moment.

All seven ages he plays with

One string : gimme gimme gimme.

Infants may cry for loose ends

While the man for loose change

All the world is a cage

Where we ourselves do

serve the gaoler: how sad

We never think what is free

Nor stake claim as freeborn?


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