The Ballad of Bookie Joe

THE BALLAD OF BOOKIE JOE

by Mike Byrne

I died last night at ten o’clock

The Knicks just scored a basket

My sister switched to Channel four

And phoned up for a casket.

Since then I’ve hung around a bit

Not sure of where to go

And now and then I gaze upon

The corpse of Bookie Joe.

Sure they knew me as the bookie

But none dare say it loud

Afraid the Feds might wiretap

Or infiltrate our crowd.

I used to go from bar to bar

Accepting two buck bets

From widows and retirees

And proud disabled Vets.

I gave them what they wanted

The chance to make it big

But they were fools and so was I

You just can’t beat the vig.

Ah those days, those halcyon days,

The zebras had control

They’d call time out or throw a flag

To beat you by a goal.

The funeral was a quiet one

We had it in the house

And everyone I know showed up

Except O’Brien, the louse.

There soon began to trickle in

Much to my amaze

The crowd from Golden’s Daffodil

Where I had plied my trade.

And then they came from Erin’s Rest

And more from Pub MaHone

I was a bit beside myself

Whoever would have known?

There’s Bill, he bet six twenty one

For twenty-seven years

The day he quit it came right in

You still can see the tears.

And Rose, she’d bet her welfare check

Life treated her unkind

She’d not remember what she bet

But claim I robbed her blind.

I gave them what they wanted

The chance to make it big

But they were fools and so was I

You just can’t beat the vig.

Ah those days, those halcyon days

The zebras had control

They’d call time out or throw a flag

To beat you by a goal.

Now as I look about me

And wonder where I’ll go

I see my friends surround me

All sad to see me so.

I think I lived a good life

Tho’ a bit outside the law

I hope the Lord considers

T’was just a minor flaw.

"A little shack in heaven

A view of Sheepshead Bay

Is what you’re getting, Joseph."

I hear an angel say.

"We haven’t got a bookie here

They want to try their luck

Playing harps is not for them

Their church hymns really suck.

They want to cheer and holler

When horses thunder past

Or baseball players hit grand slams

With two outs in the last.

The Lord don’t understand them

And so we’ve come to you

They’re organizing unions

We don’t know what to do."

I fully understand them, Gabe.

I understand their game.

I need the odds from Vegas though

To quench their burning flame.

And get me Tony’s Tip Sheet

With the line for the NFL

And promise if I pull this off

I won’t end up in hell.

Gabe gave me what I wanted.

I’m booking bets again.

The beer is flowing freely

Hey, there’s my old friend Ben

The TV picture at the bar

Settles with a smack

As Ben backs down the ladder

From giving it a whack.

Folks come for take-out pizza

They’ve got a jukebox too

The waiter tells me, Joseph,

I’ve got something nice for you.

A steaming plate of gnocci

Is waiting at my table

My mouth begins to water

 I’m living in a fable.

A dish of pulpo from the grill

A glass of silver wine

A finger bowl, a salad

This really is divine.

I now have what I wanted

I’ve finally made it big

Yes, I’m the only Joe I know

To ever beat the vig.