He Tipped the Waiter

He tipped the waiter in the dining car

For a seat near the lady with flowing fur

And took off his glove and kissed her hand

And yet his monocle was steaming wet

O so nervous! O so grand!

Greasing that palm and kissing that hand

What baby brain pushed his button

So his gravy train would glide

Across the Elysian plain to Rome by night

I met him on a Roman night

And then again by Venice light

Among a flock of latest loves

Counting up his conquests

On grey suede gloves

Then shooed us all away like turtle doves

And then he vowed out loud

To the cooing crowd

“A guy gotta lay low!”

And gave me pause to realize

He would if he could

Seduce a halo

The great hole in the skies!

His were not lies, not merely lies

Lies were his form of merchandise

What baby brain pushed his button

So his gravy train could keep puffing

Across the plain to Rome by night

And the Venice light

O so nervous! O so grand!

Greasing that palm and kissing that hand