Property

You know I stepped off the 67 bus this morning

South down Roosevelt

Sunday, thinking-of-Monday, yearnin

Quiet town revealt

Bus runs, train runs, early mornin mama runs

See, folks can’t make up their minds

Weeksdays AM, weekends PM, ‘cept nuns

I think it’s by horarium they stretch their spines

But this morning I’m breakin rules

In the AM boy-scout-out

Down the steps, skippin stairs, plur-rules

Alarm down, knockout bout

Hey, you gonna walk or what!

Yes sir, thanks for holdin fast

Head shake, honk by, wheel cut

Must be late for mass

Turnin the corner towards Brooklyn Ave

A-a bum is singing Luther Allison out his tent

I don’t want no part-time looooooveee

And I feel compelled to join this week-end A-M sidewalk community

These people put in haaard work to bring-about a better-block

Where is my sense of duty?

I’m an outsider, off the clock!

Look there, even that pigeon’s at work

Diligently cleaning seeds, crumbs, plums, yums,

All scattered by some jerk!

Some jerk like me

Who am I callin a bum!

I’m the free-loadin no-good son-of-a-gun

Thank you Pigeon!

Thank you Bum!

Now if you don’t mind I’ll pass through soon

But to give my thanks, I’ll whistle a quick tune