The Return of Dan Mcgrew

Some of the local thugs were tipping their mugs in the Malamute Saloon; The music box sat still, as the keep slammed the till and wolves howled at the moon. Then there appeared, right back of the bar, an apparition that no one knew; Down in the dumps, that once Queen of the Trumps, sat the lady known as Lou. It had been thirty years to the day it appears, that the famed shooting took place, As Lou saw the scar on the man by the bar, she slowly recognized his face; She quickly clutched at her throat for he had gotten her goat as she turned blue; Because for all the world, playing a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew. The now old man that plays the music box was starting a sad waltz song, When in drifted a miner cold from the creeks that had prospected much too long. Though most of the gold had long left the fold, a miner’s dust still had some joys, He relished his women, booze and smokes, and bought drinks all around for the boys. His eyes were the eyes of a man half-dead – a man that the world’s forgotten; And Lou did think she’d seen him before, but lately her memory was rotten. He toasted her health and counted his wealth, then drank long with that sodden crew; And we wished him good cheer, then hoisted our beer to Dangerous Dan McGrew. (cont.)