wildebeest

when stephen foster died in a flop-house on the bowery

his worn-out wallet held just a quarter and a dime

but the crocodiles

they have to eat

the crocodiles have to eat

he smashed his head on the sink in the bitter fever of gin

a wildebeest gone crazy with thirst pulled down as he tried to drink

but deep down in the muddy stream even crocodiles dream their dreams

and as the herd galloped off he lay on that flophouse floor

singing

beautiful dreamer" as the lions began to roar