Stop him, stop that man
Running through the streets,
Even moving under them––
The man with the yellow bow tie!
In the city the policemen are playing hopscotch,
Since they’ve already thrown bumpy cinnamon waffles
Today beneath all the citizens’ illicit sitting spots.
The cats are baking in the kitchen,
And the children are taking in naps,
While onerous nylon pants run gaily by this spot.
Stop him, he laid some hands on my cello!