(MUSIC)
SS: I am so nervous around English majors. I'm so afraid I might make a grammatical error. I mean, you are so so articulate. You're just so extremely cogent and concise and look at me, here I am gushing like an idiot or something. I wish I could express myself as well as you do.
GK: I could help you.
SS: Oh gosh. Really??? How??
GK: Come here. I'll show you.
SS: What are you doing? (SHE SQUEALS, GIGGLES) Oh my.
GK: I teach English by the touch method.
SS: Ooohhhh. (BRIDGE)
TR (ELVIS, REVERB): Hey, chief. I sure do envy you English majors I mean, like, wow, to write stuff for chicks about a hunka hunka burning love.
GK: That's what we do, Elvis. It's all about love.
TR (ELVIS): Yeah. That hot burning love. Like a volcano that's hot. Gets me itchin like a man on a fuzzy tree. Sure wish I'd majored in English. But I'm just a dead white man.
GK: We English majors really like dead white men, Elvis.
TR (ELVIS, REVERB): Oh really? Hey, you like Keats? John Keats?
GK: Keats? You bet.
TR (ELVIS, REVERB): A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness. Cool, huh?
GK: Beautiful.
TR (ELVIS): Man, nothing beats Keats. Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' - that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. that's what I was trying to say, man. I told him that.
GK: You told Keats?
TR (ELVIS): Yeah, man. He's here. Shakespeare, Shelley. Poe. Yeats. They were all trying to pick up chicks. That's why they wrote. Walt Whitman didn't, but you know
GK: So you've met all these guys.
TR (ELVIS) Yeah. And Emily. Wow. Love that white dress.
GK: You've met Emily Dickinson?
TR (ELVIS): Yeah, man. Danced with her. Tried to make out but man, that dress is really buttoned up tight. Tried to put her in the mood, chief.
GK: Well, don't give up, Elvis. You've got time.
TR (ELVIS, REVERB): I'm here for awhile, aren't I.
GK: Yeah.
TR (ELVIS, REVERB): I been a long time gone, haven't I.
GK: Yeah, but you're still remembered.
TR (ELVIS, REVERB): She never heard of me at all.
GK: No, but we still remember you.
TR (ELVIS): I tried to tell her I was really big at one time.
GK: You were.
TR (ELVIS): What month is it there now?
GK: April, Elvis. It's almost May.
TR (ELVIS): "Well, nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass. The loveliness of summer flower, it's glory soon is past." What's his name, the guy who wrote that?
GK: Wordsworth, Elvis. William Wordsworth.
TR (ELVIS): Kind of an oddball, but I like his stuff. All I can say is, I wish I'd been an English major, chief. Sure do. Yeah.
GK: Don't you wish you were one, too?. A message from POEM, the Professional Organization of English Majors.