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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.