I’m an astronaut known for achievements in space;
On my bike, I won many a Tour de France race;
My inventions secured FM radio’s place;
And my trumpet and voice are as known as my face.

Who am I?

UPDATE: Riddle solved by Asher. See comments for answer.

I’m the front of a book; I’m a spy’s secret role;
I’m a band who plays oldies; to spackle a hole;
I’m the fee to get in; put a lid on a bowl;
I am guarding your man; or protecting your goal.

Who am I?

UPDATE: Riddle solved by Another Shakespeare Teacher. See comments for answer.

From Hamlet:

I cannot live to hear the news from England;
But I do prophesy the election lights
On Fortinbras.

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

Math prognosticator Nate Silver predicted the whole state finishing roll, one-none.

Fun hobby!

This is the eleventh in a series of pop-music parodies for Shakespeare fans.

Enjoy!

One More Knight
sung to the tune of “One More Night”

(With apologies to Maroon 5, and St. Cripin…)

You and I look hard at each other while preparing for war.
You and I assess that our troop levels are less than before.
You and I agree it’s an issue that we should not ignore.
You and I diverge on the question of our wishing for more.

Yeah, today’s the feast of Crispin, Crispianus,
This day is holy-y,
And those who fight with us here, fight with us here,
Shall be not lowly-y,
And yearly when this day comes, when this day comes,
You’ll tell the story-y,
And so the fewer the men, fewer the men,
The greater share of glory-y.

We few are enough, if we’re marked to die,
And so now I pray, wish not one more knight.
Rather take their leave, those who would not fight,
But I pray thee, coz, wish not one more knight.

Gentlemen of England,
Who are now home resting quiet in bed,
Will curse themselves,
They were not here fighting with us instead,
Hold their manhoods cheap,
And find there’s little more that they have to say,
To the heroes that fought
Alongside the King on St. Crispin’s Day.

Yeah, today’s the feast of Crispin, Crispianus,
This day is holy-y,
And those who fight with us here, fight with us here,
Shall be not lowly-y,
And yearly when this day comes, when this day comes,
You’ll tell the story-y,
And so the fewer the men, fewer the men,
The greater share of glory-y.

We few are enough, if we’re marked to die,
And so now I pray, wish not one more knight.
Rather take their leave, those who would not fight,
But I pray thee, coz, wish not one more knight.

I’m to pull out your gun; put a sketch on the page;
I’m a game-ending tie; I bring crowds to the stage;
Take a card from the deck; pick a ball from the cage;
Moving curtains or blinds; and collecting a wage.

Who am I?

UPDATE: Riddle solved by Asher. See comments for answer.

From King Lear:

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your loop’d and window’d raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O! I have ta’en
Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just.

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

Hurricane Sandy was a tragedy of the steepest stuff: power loss, floods, treks, homes lost, and death.

How should we justify exactly who we are?

The next test, this election ahead, is to choose among two discussed philosophies.

Romney sulks “Every man for himself.” Shut up!

Obama defends “We’re all in this together,” as he had heeded.

Help us keep up the push to stay there for one another.

Vote.

This is the tenth of a series of pop-music parodies for Shakespeare fans.

Bon Appetit!

Gristle
sung to the tune of “Whistle”

(With apologies to Flo Rida and the faint of heart…)

Did you get some gristle, maybe, gristle maybe?
Let me know.
I used a different kind of meat that seemed more apropos.
You just grind the bones to powder and you cook it slow.
Did you get some gristle maybe, gristle maybe?
Let me know.

I heard you like sweet pies,
But I bet you’d like meat pies;
And so now take a look,
I’m dressed like a cook,
To invite you to eat pies.

You are, my gracious lord, welcome.
And, dread queen, you too are welcome.
Ye war-like Goths sure are welcome.
Lucius and all, you are welcome.

Hope you won’t complain;
Have some more champagne;
Have one more helping.
Every bite you savor
Carries a distinctively curious flavor,
But the truth is really much graver…

Did you get some gristle, maybe, gristle maybe?
Let me know.
I used a different kind of meat that seemed more apropos.
You just grind the bones to powder and you cook it slow.
Did you get some gristle maybe, gristle maybe?
Let me know.

Gristle, maybe? Gristle, maybe?
Gristle, maybe? Gristle, maybe?

You just grind the bones whole,
Then mix with blood in a bowl.
Make sure the paste is rolled.
Use a spatula to fold.
With just one hand to hold,
The dish is best served cold.

The vilest Vandal can’t hold a candle
To these two villains, so much more than I could handle.
So I baked them into pies from corona to sandal,
‘Cause you never want to mess with Titus Andro.
I fed them to their momma, and that’s the scandal.

So amusing, so if you get some gristle, it’s confusing,
When you see now how the pies are simply oozing
With the special kind of meat that I’ve been using.

Did you get some gristle, maybe, gristle maybe?
Let me know.
I used a different kind of meat that seemed more apropos.
You just grind the bones to powder and you cook it slow.
Did you get some gristle maybe, gristle maybe?
Let me know.

Gristle, maybe? Gristle, maybe?
Gristle, maybe? Gristle, maybe?

I killed your sons; you consumed them,
In the meat pies that entombed them.
You ate your kin; that’s so trippy.
Let’s call it a family, family, family recipie.
So, dread queen, now you know – oh oh oh.
It’s like that Sweeney Todd show – oh oh.

Did you get some gristle, maybe, gristle maybe?
Let me know.
I used a different kind of meat that seemed more apropos.
You just grind the bones to powder and you cook it slow.
Did you get some gristle maybe, gristle maybe?
Let me know.

I am worn by the man who will crouch by the plate;
I’m a target for sparring, regardless of weight;
I’ve removed from the oven the hot things you ate;
And I hope to become this land’s next head of state.

Who am I?

UPDATE: Riddle solved by Asher. See comments for answer.

I’m preventing a goal; I’m preserving a win;
I’m to rescue from danger; deliver from sin;
To store files on your hard drive; protecting your skin;
Pay less cash at the store; at the bank, put it in.

Who am I?

UPDATE: Riddle solved by Bronx Richie. See comments for answer.

I’m a friend who stays close; I’m a high rate of speed;
I’m a sound kind of sleep; I am cash made with greed;
I’m attaching securely; declining to feed;
And a clock with a time beyond what it should read.

Who am I?

UPDATE: Riddle solved by Asher. See comments for answer.