In I Can Alley, the lights are dim
the sun it seldom shines
there lived old Katz, from Hackensack
he was a friend of mine.
We hung around the restaurants
in back where we could dine
and there we supped and filled our cup
with California wines.
Some said we made a funny pair
we fought like cats and dogs
but then we’d eat, and soon to sleep
with dreams of fillet scrod.
Old Katz would chase me down The Can
I’d chase him up a tree
then Katz would say, "Hey there's a tray
of chicken fricassee!"
But then one night we had a feast
the likes you’ve never seen
with pâté mousse of Provence goose
and lobster Florentine.
And for dessert was lots of cheese
both bleu and brie de Meaux
Katz ate the most, it's kind of gross
his belly did explode.
In I Can Alley, I said goodbye
and raised my glass of wine:
"To dear old Katz, from Hackensack
you were a friend of mine!”
© 2006 Stephen Labovsky
