Friends, Buffalonians, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Punk, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Punk. The noble Omega
Hath told you Punk was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Punk answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Omega and the rest–
For Omega is a Meltzer guy;
So are they all, all Meltzer guys–
Come I to speak in Punk’s funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Omega says he was ambitious;
And Omega is a Meltzer guy.
He hath brought many Cucknette cultists home to AEW
Whose Nielson boxes did the ratings boost:
Did this in Punk seem ambitious?
When that the smarks have cried, Punk hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Omega says he was ambitious;
And Omega is a Meltzer guy.
You all did see that on the Revolution build
I thrice presented him a win over me,
Which he did twice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Omega says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is a Meltzer guy.
I speak not to disprove what Omega spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did mark out for him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Punk,
And I must pause till it come back to me.
