a letter to claudius - lil' hobby-horse lyrics
h-llo, dear cousin, representing serpent’s shift
did you find old polonius? oh well, thrift thrift
do you wanna hear the tale, of the putrid ground meat?
then i’ll try to be hasty, the worms’ve gotta eat!
in the broom’s closet, not mad but north-north-west
stabbing my mother with syntax! (oh boy), i tried my best
but frailty in her nature enraged me no i don’t jest
the polonius screamed out “help ho!”, my patience on test
not that i felt any guilt
for that old swaddler’s spilt
blood stained so deep in my hilt
from the petard that he built
i’ve got no qualms, it’s not my fault he was hoisted!
lead on the path his own arrogant choice did
now that we’re on the topic of, just all of his flaws
i can finally express just how much he was pressed to shine, your jaw
-full of sharp fangs, that sycophantic horrid wrench
shame that he had fathered such a cute little wench
sorry to be so grave, oh what? too soon?
well don’t worry your pretty head over this tragic little loon
are you akin to juliet? you the stars and moon
’cause i’m about to bring down a cursed hebenon monsoon
you and that hobby-horse dine
sipping on water and wine
thinking all of it is fine
call pip, i think your swine!
and not to mention slime, oh how your figure shrinks
your courage is like ophelia, down it sinks
you surp-ssed my father? you who hail from a ditch
well i’m not so surprised, he did marry that ugly -aggressive scribble
it wouldn’t shock me if, for money did that crone itch
and you had helped her execute this sin without a bump or hitch
no no i’m wrong, it’s but you, i must advance
i’ll make sure that your blood splatters all the way from england to france
“but how?” i hear you ask, will i partic-p-te in this dance
you think me so meek? go an ask rosencrantz
and guildenstern, it was his turn to lay down in the gallows
a similar fate to all those who possess a mind so shallow
-guilty stammering- i’m being rude, not all deserve it
it just reminds me of polonius, how did he word it?
(oh yes)
“brevity” mon frere, “is the soul of all wit”
so keep it short and indutibly meaningful, oh that’s it!
now come, come, my cousin, let’s end this play and pity
i’ll make sure your denouement is both brief, and witty
oh here we go, most fakest jove, hyperion without his locks
i’ll make sure, at the end of it you and polonius share a box
and put a sword, through your fatty gourd, for which, methinks, i mock
and get a prize, from my father’s eyes, before the crow of c-ck!
here we are with all haste as i could manage, please receive
my condolences, or lack thereof, what’s there to grieve?
but now, we truly do reside at the end of this letter
sincerely, hamlet, son of the one who ruled much better
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