Frank “Flat Top” Stein

Frank “Flat Top” Stein

Somewhere between midnight and morning
lurks a looming, lumbering giant.
Following a noise that cannot escape,
to the sound, he creeps, so reliant.

Searching the night for the music he hears,
he won’t stop ’till he puts it to rest.
Pounding the things that gets in his way,
not level-headed, and far too obsessed.

The musical murderer has arrived.
Yes! Yes! It’s alive!

Is he a man or is he monster?
He has hardly a brain in that head.
But one thing’s for sure, he’s an angry one,
watch out, or soon you’ll be dead.

Don’t sing, and certainly don’t hum
hide, run for cover, quick get in.
One thing’s for sure, don’t sit by the well,
and never, play violin.

The musical murderer has arrived.
Yes! Yes! It’s alive!

The rumor ’bout him is quite grimm.
They say that a mad man built him,
from bits and parts that they stole from the morgue.
Put in a brain, and stitched on his limbs.

No matter the story, just beware.
His face is all over the news.
If you see him, report him, and try to thwart him,
his sanity’s only held on by screws.

The musical murderer has arrived.
Yes! Yes! It’s alive!

“Bubbles The Snitch”

“Bubbles The Snitch”
(In the style of a commercial jingle)

Plop, plop, fizz fizz,
You’s in trouble, yes you is.
Oh “Bubbles,” you’re such a rotter.
How’s it down there in the water?

You and your brothers
are quite the bothers.
All you stool pigeons
must pay for your sins.
It’s not so nice
to tattle to vice,
now you ain’t got no brass
to cover your ass.

Plop, plop, fizz fizz,
You’s in trouble, yes you is.
Bet you are hoping for wishes,
How is it sleeping with the fishes?

You’re  in such a snitching rut,
can’t just keep it shut?
It’s ok, it’s no sweat.
Everyone will soon forget.
No protection and no fame,
we’ll even have to change your name.
They’ll never know if you were poor or rich,
only that you were “Bubbles The Snitch”

Plop, plop, fizz fizz,
You’s in trouble, yes you is.
Snitch snitch, what a snake,
how’s the bottom of the lake?

For Illustration Friday’s: Under Water

Lew Gordon

Lew Gordon: Private Eye
(In the style of a film noir limerick)

He hides behind the tree in the park,
lurks in the shadows and the dark,
following at night,
he stays out of sight,
and he never even leaves a mark.

He’s become the master of disguise,
the privatest of private eyes.
Quick-change like chameleon,
speaks Italian and Korean.
The silent, slickest spy of spies.

Sewing trenchcoats to fit in,
of wallpaper, wood or tin,
hides in the fog,
or dressed as a dog
he has even painted his skin.

So when you feel someone’s  in your midst
know that Lew Gordon exists.
It’s not a mirage,
he’s in camouflage,
And now you’re on his watch list.

When Pigs Fly

“When Pigs Fly”
(The Style of a Hyper Race Announcer)

And here we go folks, the final lap!
In the lead is It’s A Trap.
Oh Hell Yes is in second place,
Is This Rigged? will make this a close race.

Who’s The Boss is trampling past Paid Off,
making it uncomfortable for To The Left And Cough.
Oh folks! Your Mama Can’t Dance,
you better believe, here comes Fat Chance.

Bringing up the back we got Sleeps With Fishes,
Put those hands together, You Got Three Wishes.
Hope you didn’t put your money on this last guy
slogging behind is When Pigs Fly.

Betting odds are eight hundred to one,
 When Pigs Fly is surely done!
But wait, what’s this, it cannot be!
Your Mama Can’t Dance, she’s got a broken knee!

When Pigs Fly, he Got Three Wishes,
Past Chance, Cough, and Sleeps With Fishes!
This is crazy, it’s the pony express!
Is This Rigged?, Oh Hell Yes!

Can You believe it, eight hundred to one?
Can you believe that jockey just won?
Someone is rich, and now many will cry.
Man oh man, When Pigs Fly.

“The Barman”

“The Barman”

Coming into town from far around,
all the folks, both clean and sleazy,
Barman, pour another round!
This is a speakeasy, so shhh, speak easy.

Hope you know the password here,
don’t form any lines outside.
Wines, spirits, tonics, beers,
but only if you can get inside.

The bouncer, bar tender, the cigarette vendor,
he’s a one stop libations compound.
When laws are passed that make him an offender,
they take their operation underground.

So drink and be merry, but no need to riot
so check your weapons at the door.
Enjoy, but speak easy, so keep it quiet.
Psst, Barman, can I have another pour?

Kirk Robin

Kirk Robin

(In the style of an interrogation)

Who killed Kirk Robin? I, said Harold “The Head”
I bashed him, bashed him dead. I killed Kirk Robin

Who saw him die? I, said “Fraidy” Freddy.
Wait, not Again, I’m not ready. Nevermind, I didn’t see him die.

Who’ll be the clerk? I, said Detective Burkes.
If I don’t have to work, I’ll be the clerk.

Who’ll sing the psalm? We, said the Quartet of three.
We’ll sing it beneath the willow tree.We will sing the psalm.

Who will dig the grave? I, said the “Rat”.
In my grave digger hat.  I will dig the grave.

(Bridge)

Wait, is he alive? I think I saw that greaser drive!

I saw him, I did, unless that was “Sidecar” Sid.

So is he alive, or is he dead?  Were you lying, Harold “The Head”?

(Closing)

Who knows Kirk Robin?
I, said the Ghost.
He’s toast.
I know Kirk Robin.

Dinah Mite

Dinah Mite

(In the style of a commercial jingle)

Pop, pop, bang, bang!
The loudest member of the gang.

When the vault needs opening,
just give her a shout.
When you see her spark the string,
everyone get out!

Pop, pop, bang, bang!
The fiery lady in the gang.

A distraction from the cops,
up in flames and smoke.
The cops, they drop, when they hear the pops,
it’s the perfect hiding cloak.

Pop, pop, bang, bang!
The loose cannon in the gang.

But once she fought with the boss,
he told her what to do.
Dinah is no the one to cross,
their relationship is through.

Pop, pop, bang, bang!
Boss will never again harangue.
Pop, pop, bang, bang!
The loudest member of the gang.

For Illustration Friday: Spark

Professor “Chops” Bronson

Professor “Chops” Bronson

(In the style of a mad, groovy, funk beat sung by a shirtless rocker)

In between teaching English lit,
he’s with the mob, can you dig it?

Drivin’ to the high school, list’nin’ to funk,
with Mickey “The Mole”, stuffed in his trunk.

Grading papers, dancin’  the blues,
after pourin’ Mickey new cement shoes.

Who would have known, he’s a ruthless killer,
while he casually reads Arthur Miller.

(Chorus)
Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Baby, oh yeah.
Twain, London and Dickenson
Riding in his sixty nine Grem-lin
Drugs, Extortion and Hemmingway
What can he say, it’s really great pay!
Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Baby, oh yeah.

On the way to the hideout, he’s always swerving
too busy reading Washington Irving.

Drops off a shipment of a kilo of blow
Then right back to Edgar Allen Poe.

This contract work is totally radical,
lots of income while on sabbatical.

(Chorus)
Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Baby, oh yeah.
Twain, London and Dickenson
Riding in his sixty nine Grem-lin
Drugs, Extortion and Hemmingway
What can he say, it’s really great pay!
Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Baby, oh yeah.

Frau Katze

Frau Katze
(In the style of a Hogan’s Hero)

As ze mob takes over ze city,
up pops a defense committee.
in spite of ze smite, zey take up ze fight,
und vow to show zem no pity.

Hauser Street is ze old lady’s club,
Watch out! Get down! Hind ze shrub!
She’s a pouncing cougar, ready with her Luger,
find another way home from ze pub.

Ze members of ze group all have cats,
wartime weapons, outfits und hats.
Dressed to ze nines, on ze front lines,
defending zeir houses und flats.

Ze Katze Club moves in on ze land,
it’s going according to plan.
When no one is home, zey sack it like Rome,
Six blocks are back in command.

When mobsters just can’t be coerced,
zey know how to make zem disperse.
Zey get zem all sick, brats laced with arsenic,
death by sausage, oh, it’s ze wurst.

Zey won’t rest till ze town is at ease,
and ze city is ridded of sleaze.
Till zen zey strap on ze heat, and hit ze street,
a new meaning to crazy cat ladies.

Rhett Stetson

Rhett Stetson

(In the style of a folk ballad story)

Once you leave town and head to the west
You best know you’re puttin’, life to the test.
Crossing over, the highway nine
deep in the country, past the pines.
Watch out boys, when you hear that gun,
fore you just met, Rhett Stetson.

Ain’t no laws, ain’t no rules,
do as he says, son, don’t be a fool.
Give him yer cash, give her liquor,
or you’ll be gone, quicker than a flicker.
Once he’s done here, get on the run,
fore you just met, Rhett Stetson.

Pay up the toll for crossing his road,
hell, just for bein’ in his postal code.
open the trunk, better let him inspect,
is there anything he’d like to collect?
Alright, oh-kay, we’re almost done,
fore you just met, Rhett Stetson.

You can cry, whelp, even harangue
but at the end of the day, he took every-thang.
Now, don’t you think to try and tattle,
he’s got all them cops, rounded up like cattle.
Alright git goin’, ride to the sun,
fore you just met, Rhett Stetson