Jack’s Pit Stop was a hole-in-the-wall
the place was open 24/7
two bucks would buy you a pitcher of beer
a bowl of white bean soup with cornbread
Jack was Irish and full of bluster
wrinkled as a tobacco leaf
we stumbled out of the clubs at three
the sky was black and the birds were asleep
and we went to Jack’s for patty melts
we were so young
he called us his babies
gather ye rosebuds, Jack used to say
you’ll dance soon enough on the edge of a knife
Jack had once been a cook in the navy
he did a good business but Jack was a gambler
he bet on the greyhounds
bet on the ponies
he gambled away the hole-in-the-wall
now there’s nowhere to go
when the birds are asleep
no cornbread and soup
no patty melts
no two dollar pitchers of beer anymore
Jack’s Pit Stop turned into a Wendy’s
we dance soon enough on the edge of a knife
gather ye rosebuds now, my babies.