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