Greasy Luck

by Stephen W. Cote

Greasy Luck

My baby's gone (and) I'm alone in a one horse town.
She left behind an iron line she'd run (in)to the ground.

The words were fast and loose, put my head in the noose
She had her fiddle in a groove,

If I turn the table, if I turn the tide
It's by the skin of my tooth

This time I belled the cat, upset the fish and buried the axe
But she's no real McCoy, she's tried this ploy, it's my turn to fight back

I'll take my time by the forelock in my fine Italian hand
Her jig is up

And if I succeed and make her plead
I guess that's just my greasy luck

Every man with an elbow has a good supply of grease
So coat the squeaks and in a few weeks you'll enjoy that greasy luck.

Stephen W. Cote
swcote@ix.netcom.com
http://www.fwl.com/fwl/

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Last Updated: December 8, 1996