From this day to the ending of the season,
But we in it shall always remember-
We few, we happy few, we band of boarders;
for he today that shreds the gnar with me
shall be my brother; be he ne'er such a douche,
this day shall mellow his condition;
and dudes everywhere in the flats
shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
and hold their 'nads cheap while any speaks
that hit the jumps with us in the park.
From the St Crispin's day speech
with apologies to the ghost o'Will.
Probably doesn't meet your criteria but it was fun.
Yeah, that's me, Tracer Bullet. I've got eight slugs in me. One's lead,
the rest bourbon. The drink packs a wallop, and I pack a revolver. I'm
a private eye.