As I walk down Toady Street I pass the home of Mr. Flatfoot

The longest streatch of Sidewalk you'll ever see.

The man has lived more than five-hundred-years

and never even bothered to make me some tea.

As I walk down Toady Street I bring an egg for Mr. Flatfoot

Throw it at his house, most daintily.

But as I run from the home of Mr. Flatfoot

I often step on glass and often bleed.

I believe that Mr. Flatfoot s not an ordn'ry man.

I believe he's a witch or a prophet

and he likes to see me in that hospital van.