 |
|
|
From Nurse Jones "Is this thing on?" Nurse Jones taps the microphone and blows into it. Thunk, thunk, huff, huff. She is standing on a small stage in a shabby, smoke-filled bar where the after theatre ASB crowd hangs out. It is three in the morning, the bar has closed, and the members of the band are putting away their instruments behind her. "Um, I have some announcements to make before we get started." "What's that you're wearing, Maaaaaaargaret?" There's a heckler in the audience. "I liked the corset a LOT more." Other voices join in. "Yeah! What is this? We were expecting something, you know, sexy." Nurse Jones is dressed like a miniature lumberjack, with a plaid flannel shirt and suspenders, jeans, and worn leather boots. There is duct tape wrapped around the toe of one boot. "Settle down, Goose, you're drunk." "Drunk?! Hey! I'm not drunk," yells Blue Goose. He's feeling rowdy after his delurking. "I wanna second opinion!" "Okay: you're obnoxious." Shaboomp-pah... The drummer from the band is still there. Nurse Jones straightens an imaginary necktie in imitation of Rodney Dangerfield, her favorite comedian after the classic Bush- Quayle team. "But seriously folks, I DO have an anouncement. As you know, we celebrated National Condom Week last week, and, even though it ended in a disaster, I want to thank you all for your enthusiastic participation in the parade. Those of you that only recently made bail may not have heard that the ASB float was impounded, so it looks like we are out some bucks... "Awwwwwww!" The audience choruses their disappointment. "... since this means ten thousand square yards of latex down the tubes. Plus, the deal with the hot air balloon manufacturer will probably fall through. Clearly, this city has no aesthetic sense." The nurse pauses so Harlan, lurking in the dimly lit back row, can look up "aesthetic." The audience murmurs disgruntled agreement: the city has no vision. The nurse shuffles her notes and continues: "The second announcement is my own. It is directed at all you lurkers in the back row. Yes, you. We've had a couple of delurkings recently, and I must say I learned a lesson, and I hope you have, too. Someone, Gregory I think, did a wonderful job on stage tonight, as I'm sure the after-theatre crowd will agree." Applause and whistles. "And Aviator's tasteful entrance earned him a warm welcome." More applause. "And I can assure you that another even more charming delurking is on the way. I won't tell you her name, but I suspect that she is, at this very moment, writing her own one-person grand entrance. I understand it may involve sky-writing... "Blue Goose, on the other hand, gave us a good example of why some birds eat their own young. "Anyway, I was thinking about this last night, and I came to a decision. I took a vote, and I believe I am unanimous in this: look before you delurk. Everyone has opinions all the time, but delurking is like losing your virginity: you only get to do it once. Except for Blue Goose, of course. "I'm not trying to keep down the signal/noise ratio here, I'm just suggesting that an entertaining performance will make you more welcome than an opinion. Or a "You'll Be Sorry When I'm Dead" post. "So anyway: make a splash, not a smudge. That's some good advice I thought I'd pass on. I always pass on good advice. It's never any good to me. Trust me, I know about this. I fell flat on my face when I delurked, and Michael had to pick me up twice. "And now for the main attraction. Which incidentally will explain why I am dressed this way. "Um, isn't there supposed to be a spotlight or something now?" There is a scuffling sound in the back of the barroom and a glass breaks. The lights go out and a single spot appears over Nurse Jones' head; it contracts until it is a tiny circle of light. *blink!* Nightfly *blink!* adjusts to the brightness. POINK! An object flips through the air toward Nurse Jones and lands at her feet in the pool of light. She stoops to pick it up. It is a clothse pin. "Okay, where did this come from?" She holds up the pin. There are giggles and shuffling noises near the front row. Someone says, "Lothie. I think she took a deep breath." "Okay, lets settle down, now. And Michael, take off that ridiculous hat. Roo can't see over you. I'm going to read a poem, and I want your full attention." There is a mixture of groans and polite applause from the audience. Not poetry again, they are thinking. She takes a wad of cocktail napkins out of her shirt pocket and waves them at the audience. "This is an unpublished poem that I think may be by Robert W. Service. You know him: he's kind of the poet laureate of the Yukon. He's famous for an epic poem about a desperado named Dangerous Dan McGrew. Anyway, I found the poem in a trunk I inherited from my great grandmother. It is written on seven old yellow cocktail napkins and it was tucked into an empty knife sheath. A biiiig knife sheath. In the trunk." "I hope I got the napkins in the right order. There is even stage direction written in the margins," she says, gesturing with the napking again. "Anyway, the poem seems to be about my granny, and it takes place in a famous bar in San Francisco. A bar very much like this one," the nurse says, looking around. As she talks, the darkness behind her lightens to reveal a dimly lit barroom scene. The place is deserted and seems to have been closed up for the night. There is a row of stools upended on top of the bar, and one stool stands alone on the floor; it has a knife handle sticking out of the seat. She walks to the bar and begins taking the stools down. "The poem tells a story of things that took place nearly a century ago. As I say, it seems to be about my great grandmother; she was also a nurse, by the way, and I was named after her. "For those of you that were wondering, my wisdom teeth are healed, but I want you to know that I'm still not used to it -- just in case my tongue gets stuck in my cheek or something. Besides, I've never recited poetry before." She walks behind the bar. The spot follows her into the dim setting. There are more tables in the background, all with chairs upended on them. And somehow, cobwebs and dust seem to have accumulated on everything, just since closing time. She runs three draft beers and puts them on the bar next to a jar containing what appears to be a blob of cottage cheese floating in murky liquid. Then she moves a stool to center stage and sits directly under the spotlight. She takes one last look down the length of the bar. There is a dusty cowboy hat hanging on a peg on the wall at the far end of the bar. "I know you aren't all poetry fans,"
she waits a little while
and then smiles a little smile.
"That's tough. The poem is titled:
'Dangerous Maggie Jones, RN'
or
'A Tale of Love and Romance in Old San Francisco'
[Note to ASB readers: I suggest you ignore the stage direction if you actually read this. I only put it in because I wanted a faithful copy of the napkins. ;-) ] "And if you poetry aces want verse about places like Singapore or Nantucket, or if five hundred lines is just too many rhymes, well, then dump this in your bit bucket." Napkin #1:
Stranger, I think, if you'll buy me a drink,
That I'll tell you a tale or two
About a lady I hear could strike stark fear
Into Dangerous Dan McGrew.
There's a story they tell, about a nurse from Hell
Who changed the meaning of Sin.
Now, it couldn't be true, but I know Dan McGrew
And he was there when she walked in The nurse
stands up...
To the meanest leather bar in the world by far
Down by the old shipping docks ...dips a chip...
Where they dip their chips in crisco whipped
With broken glass and rocks. ...walks over to
Michael, and
Today its just a dive where the Harley boys jive feeds him a
About the way things used to be, potato chip.
But way back then, when the Nurse walked in
They called it 'Ragtime Eddie McFee's.'
She
When she kicked in the door with a boot sized four hooks her thumbs
And she stood with her thumbs in her jeans in her jeans and
Every eye in the place turned to look at the face looks toward the
Of the toughest dame they'd ever seen. barroom door.
She smiled her smile and stood there a while She smiles,
As the cards on the tables fell silent
And the pianola slowed, as the story is told,
For the five-foot-two inch giant.
Ragtime Eddie in a voice unsteady
Said, "Maggie, long time no see.."
And Maggie, she said, as she nodded her head,
"Well if it ain't Little Eddie McFee."
Now Ragtime Eddie was six-foot twenty
And he weighed in at three-oh-one;
But his hand, it shook, as he reached for the hook
Where he kept his old shotgun.
But she held up her hand and said, "Cool it, man, holds up her
I'm on vacation this week." hand, then
And the music resumed as the rest of the room, swaggers over
Well, they breathed a sigh of relief. to the bar.
Then she spit across the room and rattled the spittoon (plinking sound
On the floor between Dan McGrew's feet; of coin dropped
It was her expectoration that aroused his adoration ina can.)
And turned old Dan's heart sweet,
'Cause the use of a spittoon when there was so much room
On the floor was a mark of good breeding. Gestures at
It was the femininity of the gesture, you see, expanse of
That appealed to his finer feelings. empty floor.
So it was sheer class that made our lass
The object of Dan's affection,
Plus, her aim was so true, well, I tell you,
It would give any man an erection.
Napkin #2:
I guess the point, my friend, is that the bars and the men
Were different in Old San Fran,
And, though the women wore pants, there was still romance
For a sensitive fella like Dan.
But there was no such thing as a fern bar then,
If you can believe the tales;
The drag queens for starters, wore barbed wire garters,
And for roughage, they ate nails.
So stranger, when I say that the good old days
Are gone and won't return,
Don't think you're tough if you eat green stuff
At a bar where they have ferns. "How tough were
they?" someone
Ya see the brain in the jar by the till on the bar? shouts...
Well, if you read the plaque, young fella,
It says 'In memory of Fred, who ate his own head,
After somebody called him vanilla.'
It's a pretty tough place if you'll eat your own face
Because somebody called you a flavor,
But the adjective's right, ol' Fred was lilly-white,
Compared to this Nurse Jones caper.
So order us some beer and a tale you'll hear
But don't just order two.
Best order three, for you and for me,
And for the ghost of Dan McGrew. She takes a beer
from the bar and
Look around this room and pretty soon looks around the
The ghosts will come alive, room, seeing
And a story they'll tell of how the Nurse from Hell an imaginary
Came to Ragtime Eddie's dive. crowd...
Yes, if old Fred's brain could talk again
About what he saw back then,
The story he could tell would weave such a spell
As to stand your hair on end.
You see that old fool by the rickety stool
With the knife stuck through the seat? A spotlight brightens
That knife was left there by a nurse so fair over the stool with
That strong men swooned at her feet. the knife handle.
And that drunken old man who can barely stand
Will tell you for the price of a beer,
Of how his hair turned white on the fateful night
That Nurse Jones walked in here.
She ordered her drink, black coffee, I think,
Like boiling tar, they say. She stirs her beer
She stuck in her thumb just to stir it some with her thumb and
'Cause she hadn't been hurt that day. takes a drink.
Then a feller strolls in, orders straight gin,
And tips his cowboy hat,
Then he sits at the bar where the regulars are
And says, "I ain't here to chat.
"When I came in the door, I was lookin' for
A Registered Nurse named Jones,
But that couldn't be you, you're just five foot two,
And they say she can crush men's bones."
"Does she wear sunglasses? Like tight little asses?"
She said, as she turned her back,
"Well, that could be me, but I'm five foot three
'Cause I spent last night on the rack."
"I got more hormones in my little toes
Than you've got in all of your glands
So be careful, my son, 'till you know how it's done
And maybe you'll leave here a man."
He said, "In San Fran, I hear tell, m'am,
The city puts tax on rubbers."
"Spelled 'T, A, C, K, S,' little man,
It's to keep 'em on our lovers.
"'Cause Out in San Fran, where a man's a man,
And, unfortunately, so are the women,
We keep it all together with thumbtacks and leather
And, sometimes, a bit o' chrome trimmin'."
"Yeah, we have to wear leather in all kinds of weather
Snow, hail, sleet, rain or shine.
We're in this quandry 'cause we can't hang laundry
Since the clothse pin rush of '89." She tosses the
clothsepin back
"Well, I aint so sure, but you could be her," to Lothie...
Said the cowboy to the lady,
"They say she plays songs in a bar that belongs
To a fellow called Ragtime Eddie."
"Well, I used to play bassoon, in the old back room,
So you might be lookin' for me.
And if it's me you want, then you're in the right haunt
'Cause it's owned by Eddie McFee."
"Well, they say you're tough, and they say you're rough,
And they even say you're pretty.
But if you're Nurse Jones, I'm gonna break your bones,
Before I leave this city.
"They call me Big Jay, from down Pecos way,
And I'm the best there is,
And I hear tell this Nurse from Hell
Ain't nothin' but a weak gin fizz."
Napkin #3
Well, the music stopped, you could have heard a pin drop;
Every man there held his breath.
And a bar stool creaked as McGrew turned to peek ... a stool creaks...
At the boy who was facing his death.
Big John Slade, he pulled down the shade,
And Ed hung a sign that said, "Closed," the nurse steps out
And they cleared a space around the place of the spotlight and
Where the pair stood nose to nose. it widens as she
points to where the
She drew her blade from a sheath she'd made two imaginary figures
Of a mountain lion's tongue, stand in the light.
And, testing the steel with a sensuous feel,
She said, "Y'er talkin' crazy, son."
He said, "No, I'm not, an' if you're half as hot
As I've heard them say back home,
I'm gonna dance the dance that needs no pants
With Dangerous Maggie Jones."
He said, "I'm here to make you into Nurse Jones stew."
She said, "Son, you talk like a fool.
But I won't need a knife to suck out yer life,"
Then she stuck her blade through that stool. Points dramatically
at the stool.
She said, "Come on along, this won't take long."
In a voice deceptively mild,
"It'll leave me time to get back to Ob Gyn,
And have my cervix filed."
He said, "Before we go, I've got to know
About those thangs yawl got
Under yore shirt, I know they must hurt
Even though they look real hot."
"Why, these little things? They're just nipple rings,"
She said to the young buffoon,
"I hang by these from my trapeeze,
While I play my contrabassoon.
"Son, I hope you knew what you were gettin' into
When you walked into this scene.
'Cause out here we screw 'till we're black and blue
Just to change the color scheme.
"An' I didn't learn to nurse just to fill my purse:
I have to know where everything is.
'Cause when I'm through, what I like to do,
Is give a man back what's his.
"So I have to know where all the organs go,
Or a man won't look quite right.
I try to reassemble him so his parts'll work again,
Provided he survives the night.
"Son, you may think you're tough, an' you may think you're rough,
But I think you dress far too neat
For a fella who sounds like he wants to go a round
Between thighs that can crack concrete."
Then Eddie stepped in, and tried to be a friend
To the boy that was facing his fate.
"Son, there ain't no shame, an' you'll keep your good name
If you back out before it's too late.
"Son, this lady sweats during casual sex
Just to cut down on unwanted flames.
Why, she's cooked so much meat from frictional heat,
I don't even know all their names.
"A stranger to 'Frisco once tried to use Crisco NJ turns her back,
And he ended up frying his fish. looks over her
No, it ain't no joke if a man smells smoke shoulder, and
After going a round with this dish. licks her thumb;
applies it to her
"'Round here, it's a rookie that smokes after nookie; derriere, and makes
You'd be better off to check for broke bones, a hissing sound:
'Cause you might have to run for the creek, my son, "Tsssst!" of vapor-
If you live through a night with Nurse Jones." izing water.
Why, even Fred's cerebellum would have tried to tell 'im
If it could have only spoken, Rests her hand on
That any man who would chance to take off his pants the jar, pats it
Around her has got a main spring broken. affectionately.
But the cowboy, he said to Eddie McFee
"The womun ain't born I caint beat; (pronounced 'bate' in Texas)
Its a point o' honor and I gotta jump on her
Fer the glory o' the Lone Star State."
Well, Ragtime Eddie, he shook his head sadly
And he said, "Son, you oughta go home.
I know a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do,
But he shouldn't have to do Nurse Jones."
Well, the boy looked scared, but his shoulders he squared,
And he faced his coming doom;
She told him, "Say 'goodbye'," then she took his string tie, NJ pulls an
And led him on out of the room. imaginary
string tie
Now, Eddie gives young men a bottle of gin over her
The first time in his back room. shoulder.
The boy kicked off his shoes and took a swaller o' the booze,
And he got it down none too soon,
'Cause she sucked him right in with his bottle of gin,
Before he even knew he had troubles.
They say he disappeared right up to his ears,
And she blew him back out in bubbles.
She rattled all the bottles when she went to half-throttle, Points to
And the oil lamp started to swing. bottles
A windowpane cracked, and the dogs out back behind bar.
All started to howl and sing. Gentle tink-
tink noise.
The plaster, they say, cracked during foreplay,
And the floorboards creaked and groaned,
And they heard a sound like a rumble underground
As the water mains burst and foamed.
And Eddie caught Freds jar as it rolled off the bar
An' he put him in the sink for safe keeping.
But a geyser from the drain blew old Fred's brain
Straight up and he stuck to the ceiling. Makes face
and looks at
Then Short Time Sam shouted, "Boys, lend a hand! ceiling over
There's a rafter comin' up through the floor!" bar sink.
So they tied it to a table with a pair of jumper cables
That belonged to a mexican whore.
Napkin #4:
Now Tijuana Lil, she gets twitchy still,
If you mention her jumper cables.
She'd left 'em there when she had a bad scare
Which seems t' be a part of this fable.
She once tried to jump start the heart of Bad Bart,
But they hauled him away in a hearse.
He learned the hard way, the price you can pay,
Just for kissing Maggie the Nurse.
They heard a Lone Star Shout and the windows blew out
Of Ragtime Eddie's back room,
And one man swears that there came to his ears,
The sound of a contrabassoon.
It was the year of ought-six when she turned that trick
In Eddie's back room that day,
And good men have sworn there was a 'quake that morn
But the Ragtime Boys, they say
That it didn't stop shakin' 'till Maggie stopped makin'
That cowboy dance her tune,
And the tremors didn't smooth 'till the door knob moved
On Eddie McFee's back room.
Well, the hinges creaked, an' they musta been weak
'Cause they came loose from the door.
And in a shower of dust, the door frame just
Kinda fell out onto the floor.
A wisp o' smoke that smelled o' burnt cowpoke
Drifted out from the old back room,
And Ed looked around as more plaster fell down,
And said, "I guess I'll have to get me a broom."
The foundation settled as the woman of mettle
Stepped out to greet them all, Steps forward
And as she stood there a while and smiled her smile, over imaginary
The last picture frame fell off the wall. door and brushes
dust from cloth-
She wore a cowboy hat, and with a splintered slat ing.
from the bed, she was picking her teeth,
She stepped over the door and said, "I'd like some more
Of that tenderized Texas beef."
As she said those words, a last noise was heard: Cups ear toward
A faint gasp of disbelief; bar.
The boy from out West had detumesced
And was overcome by grief.
Maggie said to Ed, "You'd better scrape Fred
Back down off the ceilin'.
And I'll buy some fresh gin to pickle him in
Just in case I hurt his feelin's."
And then Eddie McFee said, "There ain't no need,
It's the best time Fred's had in years."
She said, "Just the same, I'm the one to blame,
And I'd like to stand a round of beers."
So they righted their stools and in memory of the fool Adjusts stool,
That took on the woman of steel, Sits at bar.
The boys sat and drank and gave secret thanks
That they had survived the ordeal.
Napkin #5:
You see next to the bar? Back of old Fred's jar? Points with beer
Where that dusty old shotgun stands? stein toward cow-
A-hangin' next to that, you'll see a cowboy hat boy hat, spot
With a splinter stuck in the band. brightens on hat.
And that door behind the bar, where the cobwebs are
Has been closed for many long years,
But they say to this day that you can hear Big Jay
Still back there, sheddin' his tears.
For he never came out, the Lone Star Lout,
And Ragtime, he wouldn't go in
To clean up the bones after Maggie Jones,
Redefined the meaning of Sin.
That hat and the stool with the knife stuck through,
They're the only souvenirs,
Of a time folks have called the worst 'quake of all
For lo, these many years.
But I'm sure you know how such legends grow,
And how folks all snug in their homes,
Feel a lot more safe believin' in 'quakes
Than believin' in Maggie Jones.
Now, before it all stopped, some fool called a cop,
And soon he was on the scene.
He took a look around, and somethin' he found
Made him turn a pale shade o' green.
So he spoke to the Nurse in a voice kinda terse:
"You're the party of the first part, y'see,
But there's too many second parts in that back room,
And that's a mystery to me.
"'Cause you look fine and dandy, like you've been eatin' candy,
But these other fellers look like hell.
And could I be mistaken, or is someone fryin' bacon? Makes
I ain't sure I reco'nize that smell." sniffing
gesture...
He said, "Lady, I'm alarmed, are you certain you're unarmed?
Something seems fishy to me.
I'll have to run you in, or my name ain't Flynn,
Unless you can explain what I see."
She said, "I never would refuse to show the weapon I use
To an honest man a-wearin' the blue.
So if you're an honest man, come on back to the can
And I'll show you what it is that I can do."
Well, it must have been a sight, 'cause he turned from green to white
And he ordered whiskey with a sidecar.
And once he'd settled down, he drank another around
With the boys that were a-sittin' at the bar.
He said, "Well, as for me, boys, I never did see,
A clearer case o' willful suicide.
The safest explanation is a movin' violation,
And we'll have to let the murder charge slide."
Then he looked her in the eye and let out a big sigh,
And it seemed as though he wanted to weep.
He said, "I have to give you a stern talking to,
Or my conscience won't let me sleep."
He said, "They register nurses and they register guns Pretending to be
>From Reno to South Carolina a cop, NJ lectures
But out here, ma'm, if you stay in San Fran, an empty barstool.
You gotta register that vagina.
"Yes, little lady, you may think it crazy,
But we do things different out here.
Why, even our condoms have numbers stamped on 'em
And we take inventory each year." NJ sits on stool
and answers cop.
"Why officer Flynn," she said with a grin,
As she turned her stool back to the bar,
"Are you sure that's true? I'd think a man like you,
Would never roll one down that far."
Napkin #6:
Well, the legends say that some fine day
A man with an iron sphincter
Will come in here and order two beers,
And prove he's a two fisted drinker.
With a beer in each hand that iron man,
Will sit on that old bar stool Nurse puts
And with a smile on his face pull the knife from it's place hand on knife.
And say, "Maggie, this butt's for you."
Audience
And on that day, or so the legends say, groans...
The Nurse will come back home
To old San Fran to claim her man
In Eddie McFee's back room.
Now, many have tried, and some have died
Tryin' to pull that old knife free,
But despite all the wear, that blade's still there, Takes hand off
At Ragtime Eddie McFee's. knife, looks at
stool, makes
So we warn folk that it ain't no joke disgusted face,
Even after all these years wipes hand on
When a stranger like you makes an order for two shirt...
Of Ragtime Eddie's beers.
So be careful my son, and order one,
Or if you want, you can order three,
But only a fool would order just two,
And risk a prostate-ectomy.
Well, I can hear by the chime that it's closing time,
And my tale is nearly through.
And that drunken old guy with the tic in his eye
Will be over here to claim his brew.
But before I go on, I got to tell you, son
This Dangerous Dan was the worst.
I'd pity the man that looked funny at Dan,
'Cause he'd leave the room feet first. "How bad was he?"
someone shouts.
Would you believe it mister, he never shaved a whisker
Off his horny hide?
He hammered in the bristles with the butt end of a pistol
And bit them off inside.
Now my friend Dan, he was Maggies man,
So this story just might be true:
Think if you would of the woman that could
Top Dangerous Dan McGrew.
Yes, Dangerous Dan was a rock-hard man,
But that night he just sat and stared.
If you combine hormones with Maggie Jones,
It's more than any man can bear.
Men change their names when they marry dames
Of Dangerous Maggie's fame,
And that's how her man got "Dangerous Dan"
Appended to his name.
They moved away, to Indianny they say,
But Dan ended up a wreck.
It was, in the end, the way she (pause) blew woodwind
That shuffled the poor man's deck.
So Old Dan ran away, to the Yukon, they say
Just as far as he could get from Indianny,
An' he finally made a go with a gay eskimo
By the name of Klondyke Annie. Audience groans...
Yes, poor old Dan left a broken man,
And he got away none too soon;
Why, to this very day, he will kneel and pray
Whenever he hears a bassoon.
And that broken old fool tradin' stories by the stool?
Well, he says he knew Maggie Jones,
With the ice-blue eyes, and the iron thighs
That could crack a strong man's bones. Slaps thigh on
word "crack!"
We call him plain Dan, what's left of the man
After Maggie Jones got through.
All his organs are blown, but he used to be known
As Dangerous Dan McGrew.
The times, they changed and he took a new name
When the good old days were through,
When she melted his candle, he adopted the handle
Of Pretty Darn Bad McGrew.
He's been funny in the head since he left her bed,
And he doesn't remember too well,
But that's par for the course if you hitch your horse
To the Registered Nurse from hell.
So he came back here to live out his years
Bummin' drinks from folks like you,
And he'll stop by here to claim this beer,
In just a minute or two.
He's a little bit twitchy, and his trigger finger's itchy,
'Round anyone that's five foot-two,
But you should be allright if you nod polite,
And address him as "Mr. McGrew."
And if his hand it shakes when that beer he takes,
Well, just try not to show your scorn,
Try to picture old Dan with a whiskey in his hand Toasting gesture
On the night that a legend was born. with beer glass.
Napkin #7:
And when you go home tonight and you kiss your wife,
And you're warm and safe in your home,
Think of that old guy a-sleepin' at the Y
And dreamin' of Maggie Jones.
And in later years, you can trade for beers
On the story I've just told you,
And you can have great fun tellin' everyone
How you don't believe it's true.
You can tell your friends of the night you spent
At Ragtime Eddie McFee's,
Drinkin' beer with a gal called Short Time Sal, (man/Sam) if reader
For you see, my friend, that's me. is male...
And how you shook the hand of a drunken old man
And bought him a beer or two,
And how he believed that long ago he
Was Dangerous Dan McGrew.
And when you grow old, and your story's been told,
And you're weary in the old-folks home,
You'll wonder if you could have gone a round or two
And if you had the testosterone,
And the strength and the nuts and the downright guts
To hear the cracking o' your own hip bones,
If you had dared to bed the woman all men dread:
Dangerous Maggie Jones!
Prettybad,
Leatherclad,
Don't make her mad,
And just be glad
You've never had,
Dangerous Maggie Jones!
![[PREV]](txprev.gif)
![[NEXT]](txnext.gif)
![[BACK]](txback.gif)
![[HOME]](txhome.gif)
![[E-mail me]](txmail.gif)
 |