"Ticket!" says Grace to a man in her face. "Ticket for this place! Or get out."
He lights up a cigarette and seems to forget. The strangest man she's met.
Down comes Jim. "What's the problem?" "Him! Brain is dim!
Don't ignore a ticket before you walk through the door."
"Sorry to boss you! Outside we'll toss you. Glad we lost you! What is new?"

Whatever they say, he will stay! Despite how they push him away.
He won't go! No! No! He will stay and enjoy the show.
Through the night, he'll put up a fight. He is on a sit-down strike, a sit-down strike,
A sit-down strike. He is on a sit-down strike.

The man says: "I know it. A ticket, I'd show it. I'm a poor poet doing my best.
Not yet dead, to rest my head, I need a bed or a cozy nest."
"Please be quiet! You're a riot! A ticket, buy it!
Body and soul, time to roll! Let's take control!
Buying no ticket is so wicked. His butt, kick it! He must not stay."

Whatever they say, etc.

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Rod Mitchell