DESCRIPTION:
Forty-Niner
© 2014 Tracy Grammer

Every night they take their places
Plastic buckets, hopeful faces
Padded stool, couple glasses
One for liquor, one for ashes

It's nickel slots and blackjack tables
saggy jeans, phony sable
sirens whine and the nickels fall
pull again; bet it all

Hit it big and hit it fast
It's in your blood, the die is cast
Drop a dollar, drop a dime
No such thing as closing time
You're an urban forty-niner
Sweet civilian silver miner
And I'm the eye that sees it all
Just behind the disco ball

Fortune is a fickle mistress
But Jesus Christ, you can't complain
Hundred dollars in your pocket
'Lucky' is your middle name

Dealer boys in blue and black
Dealer girls with ample racks
Aces high and the deck is stacked
See 'em swagger, hear 'em laugh

Drop a dollar, drop a dime
No such thing as closing time
Double down and live the dream
Lucky ladies, jimmy beam
You're an urban forty-niner
Sweet civilian silver miner
And I'm the eye that sees it all
Just behind the waterfall

Laughing fortune
Texas tea
Leopard spots
Turtle treasure
Double diamond
Fire and sea
Cleopatra
Life of leisure

Golden mountain
Bigfoot bonus
Gone today
Now they own us
Lucky fortune
Sun and moon
Where there's gold
And Mr. Woo

Lucky picture in your locket
Jesus Christ on a chain
Seven dollars in your pocket
Say again, your middle name?

Dealer boys with pretty hands
Cocktail girls no wedding bands
Aces high, the chips are cracked
Break a sweat, watch your back

Drop a dollar, bet a dime
No such thing as quitting time
Double down and make a fist
Lady Luck, near miss
You're an urban forty-niner
Sweet civilian silver miner
And mine's the eye that sees it all
From behind the disco ball

Drunk and down and Fortune-dissed
Goes the fabled optimist
Stumblin cross-eyed to the 'vator
Little rest, see you later