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Old man Bodey sits on his own by the side of the bar |
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Drinking slowly, resting the boots that he's carried so far |
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Once was a gambler, 5-card poker rambler, |
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That the wise men knew as a slippery deal |
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And the kids called Willie the King |
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Sea behind me, fog's coming up on the river tonight, |
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Just reminds me of smoke curling up in the yellowy light |
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There's money on the table, took what I was able |
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And spent my nights with a riverboat queen |
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And she called me Willie the King |
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Well I don't mind saying |
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I've done my share of paying |
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I've been so broken |
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Sometimes it seemed that I'd never get back |
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Watching their faces I was turning over aces |
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Though they knew my name when the money was gone, |
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They called me Willie the King |
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Well I don't mind staying up all night just waiting |
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Choosing a moment to play that card that could never be beat |
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Old man Bodey, he's still growing roots by the side of the bar |
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Drinking slowly, resting his gaze on the cinnamon jar |
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He once was a gambler, five-card poker rambler, |
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That the wise men knew as a slippery deal |
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And the kids called Willie the King |
