Cast out were his alien dreams;
Aspiring and confident he did leave.
Fiery ground of thunder burnt his home;
As he alone cast out for that void,
perceived through his singular glass dome.

Adventure had caught him lonely
But peering out from his craft
his pupils did glow!
Circling fiery molecules hovering to and fro!
How could he now transmit and show
Reflection of scale small and macro!

Fumbling, his fingers did try
To articulate the machines
Imprinted of his native language.
"Calling Cpt. Crow!"

Sending the signal the results did show
A break in the wire and a fuse did blow.
Barricading that soul far and deep,
A minuscule solar flare
Emanating a glow!

And from that earth looked upward team and crew
Saw idle in that gigantic void a singular golden hue

Distant but true was the connection they all knew.

We'd bound around
For golf downtown
Frisbees always in hand

"The students are coming!!”
Was a seasonal refrain
As we’d goofily gallivant

Mother’s Day shows
We‘re free, mother-suckers
For your kids, a show we grant

A CLOWN SHOW!
A DOWNTOWN SHOW!
THERE IS NOTHING WE CAN’T!

Rock their world with juggling
See the Doctor for what ails
Rudi and O in laundromat land

Jeanie, Splash, Allison, Donna,
Silly girls astonishing with
Leaps, jokes and handstands

Chewey, Steamboat and Grog
"Yeah-yeah! Yeah-yeah!”
Silly boys grandstanding

All hail Papa Gale! We
Funned with Cpt. Plunge
Leader of the band!

Sweet Georgia!
**** croquet!
It was grand!



(**** croquet was the official lawn game of the Sweet Georgia Brown Clowns during the summer 198x Trinity Country tour [wherein we masqueraded as a Norwegian Salmon Kissing team at a Moose Lodge Talent Show in Lewiston, CA* {true!}]: “Don’t forget your hat!”)

*(we won)

I can feel me
******* breaking under gray skies
As I dream of red eyes
And green grass
CPT Slime and Rasta's daft laughs
And the taste of tobacco on your tongue
While I wash up in SlimeyG's kitchen

Good God, if I wasn't there, that infamous week would've been filthy!

We can feel
The bass ******* it through the sideboard
SlmieyG's lounge walls are shaking hard
And we cackle bare
When Big Gay tumbles grinning downstairs
So I stick the kettle on

Good God, we caned a litre of milk in one round of teas!

I can hear
Those slimey green dawgs singing loud
When we bring Tom's cake out
And his face is a chuffin' picture
At the realisation of the six-layers' topper
So throw him a Clipper

Good God - eighteen, eighteen, EIGHTEEN tokes to clear it!

So, will you?
Can we all get together? We'll feel alright
For just one more warm hazy night
And when we sing these songs
Of freedom, we'll laugh in peace together. So long
To misery, my brothers