O, if 't be true only God hadst known, of what abominations dwelleth upon this t'rrain, this god wouldst smiteth thee down to a bone, Thence wipeth thee off land of main!
Nor shall this satisfy all to be free, Ifs't I hadst a boweth with two arrow, And I wast in a cubiculo with and thee, I wouldst shooteth thee twice a row!
For I may not decide whether or not to choose, Ifs't thou art a foolish or an obese joke. Thou heart sucke'th like unto a booze, (Nay that there be a chance of one)
And if 't be true thee has't an amorous rite, With thy jointress, Thou wilt crushe'th h'r an*s!
(Sorry for the last part, was the only thing that rhymes)
¨Alright everybody, you know I kid, you guys are the reason I went into the paper business, so, uh, good night, God Bless, Good bless America, and get home safe.¨-Michael Scott