Lady Luck’s a jealous mistress, From a nowhere town you never heard of, A lovely set of pips in hand today, A handful of horrors in your face tomorrow. A brown-eyed, dark-haired beauty, She never introduces herself; But she has a hellhound named Fate, And a circling raven Destiny she must scold often for staring. So how does she always end up with a hand in your cards, Well look, Here’s to your trick magic man, Well have a drink together, Lady Luck will kiss an ace and you shuffle, And here’s a card on fire, Is this the card you kissed madam? Oh how clever you are, Tell you what, I’ll just take these, this and those. You keep that one my handsome fellow, And she could be a runway model, The way she spins, pins and walks, And there you are smiling for no reason, And your hand is on fire, And that’s is how it’s done. One ought have a care wishing after Luck in life, Some say she must have devotion, Some it’s about flow, Some have a scar crossed their palm, And for them I know, that you know, what I know, About crosses, and lanterns, and silver, and whisky, Handkerchiefs, grave flowers felt hats and other things, And you best know a boat without silk in its sails, Be a plain man’s boat and that’s one you’ll just have to row.
Posted on: Thu, 01 Jan 2015 23:19:00 +0000
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