Willhum Sh-tspear

by Bill Mckechnie
(Warwick, England)

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
All the world’s a stage,
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
You must work here to get a good wage.

If music be the food for love, play on
To be or not to be,
The lady doth protest too much
But she does like to moan doth she

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio
To sleep, perchance to dream,
Oh Romeo, Romeo wherefore fart thou Romeo
There’s a smell over here and some steam

Such stuff as dreams are made on
Parting is such sweet sorrow,
What a piece of work is a man
Getting rid of that smell for tomorrow.

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars
The smell is giving me tears,

My words fly up, my thoughts remain below
The quality of mercy is not strained,
The winter of our discontent
The smell from this man be contained

Cowards die many times before their deaths
Prodigious birth, Out, dammed spot,
All that glisters is not gold
And neither did that from his butt.

Alas, poor Yorick, The plays the thing
Blow, blow, though winter wind
A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse!
I’m sure that fart was skinned.

Asses are made to bear, and so are you
For goodness sake, Foregone conclusion
When shall we three meet again?
When undies get rid of intrusion

Give me my robe, put on my crown
Now we go in content,
The noblest Roman of them all
I do wish now you had went.

The green-eyed monster, An itching palm
Oh what men dare do!
Chaos is come again, the crack of doom
Out popped that number two.

Something wicked this way comes
Oops there’s another bubble,
Budge an inch, Cruel to be kind
Double, double toil and trouble.

Good riddance, Breathe one’s last
I’ve taken cakes and ale,
Knock, knock! Who’s there?
A pound of flesh that’s stale.

The serpents egg, it smells to Heaven
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed
Oh my bottom is red and sore.

What the dickens, A sorry sight
Passing strange, Sweets to the sweet,
A little touch of nature
Never the two shall meet.