Who smiles and skips on stage, I think, today,
Makes light of this sad spooky Shakespeare play;
It’s not too old to curse you; I know, see-
-this Scottish Play- as it has sure done me.
I met my none too early kind of death
By screaming out that shipwrecked name, “Macbeth!”
Though I was near to ninety, weary, then,
The spell has slipped up several stronger men.
Portraying Duncan, over eighty-nine,
I slept on stage, I promise, just one time,
And when our fellow actor jostled me,
I tried to improv out, “Macbeth it be!”
His name was Hal O’Brian, not Macbeth;
he mourned me startling to a depth of death,
that sweetheart who woke sleeping, weak-heart me.
I’m floating here to clap eternally.
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