So when I was a little kid, my mom and my dad had these records all over the house
and this guy named Lord Buckley, he would take speeches, and famous bits of literature,
and biblical stories, and bits of plays, and anything that he loved and he would reinterpret them
in sort of late 40s, early 50s, hip slang.
And I would sit around and inadvertently memorize these,
and one of them was Marc Anthony’s funeral oration by William Shakespeare
from "Julius Caesar" as interpreted by Lord Buckley.
Hipsters, flipsters, and finger-poppin' daddies,
Knock me your lobes,
I came to lay Ceasar out,
Not to hip you to him.
The bad jazz that a cat blows,
Wails long after he's been cut out.
But the groovey, the groovey is often stashed with their frames,
So don't put Caesar down.
Swinging Brutus hath laid a story on you
That Caesar was hungry for power.
If it were so, it was a sad drag,
And sadly hath the Caesar cat answered it.
Here with a pass from Brutus and the other brass,
For Brutus is a worthy stud,
Yea, so are they all worthy studs,
Though their stallions never sleep
I came to wail at Ceasar's wake.
He was my buddy, and he leveled with me.
Yet Brutus digs that he had eyes for power,
And yes, Brutus is a solid cat.
It is true he has returned with many freaks in chains
And brought them home to Rome.
Yea, the looty was booty
And hip the trays we weld
Dost thou dig that this was Caesar's groove
In the putsch?
When the cats with the empty kicks hath copped out,
Yea, Caesar hath copped out, too,
And cried up a storm.
To be a world grabber a stiffer riff must be blown.
And yet Brutus was swinging for the moon.
And you all were gassed on the Lupercal
When he came on like a king freak
Three times did I lay the kingly wig on him,
And thrice did he put it down.
Was this the move of a greedy hipster?
Yet, Brutus says he dug the lick,
And yes, a hipper cat has never blown blood.
There are those who say that Brutus' story was a gag.
But I dug the story was solid.
I came here to blow.
Now, stay cool while I blow.
Y'all dug him once
Because you were hipped that he was solid
How can you now come on so square
Now that he is tapped out of this world.
City Hall is flipped
And flown to a drunken zoo
And all of you cats have goofed to wig city.
Dig me hard.
My ticker is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And, yea, I must stay cool til it flippeth back to me.
