Stripes Brown (from '...Bounce to the Winespot')

Now pitter-patter a cat - eh?/ That old 

Stripes Brown, Brown sound!/Rounding them

deep down beat squeekers, creepers and creatures,/

reached floorboard hoardes; each moon light marauder/

caught of sorta' saw the sun hawking the town as it frowned...

Doown/ 

dipping, flipping the lazy lounge lanterns of the place I roam I call it home!/

Where pally's and scallywaggers, beggars and baggers, bunny-money sonny toe-taggers

hang loose when the sunset staggers (hmmm...)/

Go sip a dip of that cold tummy chummy, for old crummy rummy's, whose liquor swiggers

quicker than Roadrunner's kicking ticker/ where 'Latenite' rats 

and slipmat cats go back to back, it's like that! In fact/

the evenings leaving teased the believing through downtown ste-re-o sound around the wobbling cobbles 

and tree-top/ topples, bopping absurd herds of Curly Birds they're/

feeling appealing so beak a greet to all of this streets residents, spreading what's found in their downs by the pound/

for pound,/ uptown bound, alter halt (eh) my train of thought./

Late night's and lights rooftop heights we sit a chitter-chattering, yakking much double-dutch and such./

Neighbourhoos kiddies, tikes with trikes leaving their bikes, hiking instead, and head towards home they breeze/

with the swaying ease of the leaves on these/ trees/ grown on the street/

where the sooner moon had blessed the sun when it sneezed.