– August 18, 2009
Who are you guys? We’re from the CIA.
And you? I’m Lucien Sarti from Marseilles.
What about you swarthy types? Who, us?
We’re Cuban exiles, and we won’t discuss
The reason why we’re here. And how about you?
I’m sent by Sam Giancana and his crew.
And you? J. Edgar Hoover is my chief.
And you there, fella? Clay Shaw has a beef
With JFK, and that’s why I’m around.
And you two guys there, squatting on the ground?
Wall Street and the oil-rich tycoons
Paid our way here. What about you goons?
Fidel Castro and the Revolution
Must be defended. This is the solution.
And you guys? We were sent by LBJ—
That snotty Harvard brahmin’s in his way.
And you there, buddy? Santo Trafficante
Wants to send down to the hell of Dante
That little Irish prick. Man, what a mob!
So much muscle just for one small job!
And all you others, crowding in the aisles?
E. Howard Hunt, Frank Sturgis, Jimmy Files,
David Atlee Phillips, Chauncey Holt…
Enough already! I’m about to bolt.
You sure there’s room behind this picket fence
For all of you to shoot? It makes no sense
For me to hang around and spoil the fun.
Hey fella—who are YOU? And where’s your gun?
Me? I’m Oswald, and I’m gonna split—
It looks like you don’t need me for the hit.