Scooby or not Scoobywhat a stupid question: Whether tis nobler of the mind to suffer The laughs of Barney and Fred, Or the manly forearms of Popeye on the seas of trouble And, by opposing, end Chip & Dale, please. To die, to sleepNo moreand by a sleep to dream visions of Power Puff GirlsSuch heartache and the thousand natural shocksTheir flesh stings in me'tis a consummationDevoutly to be flushed. To cry, to creepTo weep, perchance to cream that stinking Road Runner.Ay, there's the rub, Wile E. always get screwedAcme stuff never works. But he never diesno sleep of death.When QuickDraw McGraw shuffles off to El Kabong hisMortal coil, Baba Louie must give paws. There's the respectThat we give to the dog who goes after Foghorn LeghornWhose continual calamities suffer his life.For only Yogi Bear would grip the pic-i-nic baskets and scornThe times when Ranger Smith assumes him th' oppressor wrong.The fangs of Kool Kat, whose beatnick style of rapDespised the hunter in the iron elefant to spurn hisPatience and chase most haste with his Remington at whateverPace it took, while he himself bright and always stealthWould slip his body away into a barrel. Who would Fraggles fear,Certainly not the runt dozers who sweat and work a weary life,While the great Trash Heap talks dreadfully of things after death,More like the ogre's undiscovered country from where radishesAre born and puzzled travelers return, like Goober FraggleWhose lack of will is rather ill and cowardly flysTo others when he doesn't know what to do.Thus conscience does make cowards (of us all,)Except Johny Bravo whose never pale skin and Constantly cast hair enterprises great pitch lines and Moments that women regard with disgust and turns them awayBut he will never refuse the name of action....
