The ace of spades
Was digging in the flowerbeds
Last night under the shade of the moon

Her rosy lips were clipped and
Her hair in disarray,
As the traffic down in
the valley disapproved.

What happened to Clara at the click of nine,
Down on the corner at fifth and dime ?

Silk stockings and stillettoes
stabbed the night
Traced out in tendrils
Of wispy smoke at bar ends

Aye the glint in his eyes,
That ace of spades,
Put paid to his debt
Of knives.