My brother he was a auctioneer
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With a skull like a kotted hammer,
He was quick as a cat when he went for beer,
But his wife was a showgirl, damn her.
But none was ever so crooked,
For I first shot craps on the ghetto lawn
Where the immigrant kids are rook’ed.
Like something screwed in a socket,
But my uncle took me to see the fights
And I picked his goddam pocket.
He would not bide so near me,
So he kicked me out one lovely morn,
With a boot in the pants to cheer me.
With skulls like solid palmettos,
And I shot my craps on the crowded walks
In the shade of the East Side ghettoes.
One of the Harlem wenches,
With a pair of buttocks that she could twirl
Till they passed out under the benches.
Was never a girl could beat her,
But some low bastard got a raise
And came one night to meet her.
As he leaped across the hedgel,
And I timed his chin with a roundhouse right
And knocked him cold as a wedgel.
Mere words can not convey it,
To mend it cost me to beat the band
And it broke my heart to pay it.
And led her into the park there,
But she knocked me out with a monkey wrench
And left me naked and stark there.
It’s a wonder I did not freezel,
Till I woke and found what had come to pass
And my curses froze the treesel.
And gathered all my craftel,
And the thought of college came to me
And that is a goodly graftel.
And a pair of sails for breeches,
And I yodel and sing and act the sap
With a hundred sons of bitches.
And seek for the stuff she peddles,
You will jazz her and get the clap,
But I will jazz co-eddles.
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