Wildebeest

Intro: 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 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 But we all have our beautiful dreams running through us like wildebeest And when we meet at the river to cross to that gleaming shore The river, she always takes a few as the herd thunders across But the river has oceans to feed, she has beautiful oceans to feed And the oceans they feed the sky and the sky feeds the earth And Stephen Foster's beautiful ghost lay down to feed a song To feed ten thousand songs echoing cross the wild plains