The Hamlet Tiger-Cats, Act I

Friends, Romans, Ticat Fans,
Lend me your ear,
The evil that men do, lives after them,
The good, is oft interred with their bones,
So let it be with Charlie.

The Ides of March are close at hand,
Therefore I caution thee,
Picketh up thy satchel,
And hitteth the road,
Ere a thousand daggers,
Poised for thy heart,
Make the deepest cuts of all.

A knife poised for thy brain,
Deep in thy groin,
Shall penetrate thee,
And thy voice,
now several octaves higher,
shall sing no more,
Of Fantasies of yore.