I took an ankle to the beach tonight, It’s where I think best.
Stop to Think, Hah! if only I had the time. With this new case on my hands, it looks like the rooster’s gonna have to wait.
Two missing, Two murdered, and the story’s gone rotten. The Palooka and Pasty ‘ave skipped town with the rest of the butter and egg men, and the only other suspect is a sharper who doesn’t sweat when the screws ‘re put on.
The melodic clip-clopping of your shoes echoes on in the night, as you pass the flop houses and clip joints.