| |
| PARDON me, lady, but I wanta ast you, | |
| For God’s sake, stop that tappin’! I’ll go nuts, | |
| Plain bug-house if I hear that tap-tap-tap | |
Much longer!
Now I went and used such language, | |
| I got to tell you why…. Well, in the first place, | 5 |
| My business is all shot. Now drugs theirselves | |
| Don’t pay much, and the extra stuff, like candy, | |
| Cigars and stationery and et cetery, | |
| Don’t make their keep. And that damn soda-fountain— | |
| Excuse me, lady, but I just can’t help it!…. | 10 |
| |
| Some day I’m gointa catch the guy I bought it off— | |
| I’m losin’ money every day it’s here. | |
| And soda-jerkers—now I can’t get none | |
| For love or money, so myself I got to | |
| Mess with them malted milks, banana splits, | 15 |
| And slop like that. And just as doggone sure | |
| As I start workin’ on some fine prescription, | |
| The kind I love to mix—got to be careful, | |
| The weights is hittin’ on that perfect balance— | |
| Why, then some fool wants a marshmallow sundae, | 20 |
| And tap-tap-tap he starts in on the show-case, | |
| And taps and taps till I come runnin’ out, | |
Leavin’ the drugs half-done.
And that ain’t all; | |
| Here’s the big trouble—I can’t talk good grammar. | |
| People don’t think a man that mixes drugs | 25 |
| Can do it right and talk the way I do. | |
| It makes me sick—why have I got to sound | |
| Like a school-teacher? Why, I know my stuff: | |
| “Registered Pharmacist”—see? I taught myself, | |
| Workin’ at night whiles I was four years clerkin’; | 30 |
| And then I took three months down at the U, | |
| And passed a fine exam. But here’s the thing: | |
| I quit the public school in seventh grade, | |
| And never paid no attention to my talk. | |
| So it’s the way I tell you—they’re suspicious | 35 |
| Because I use such slang. I try to stop, | |
| But it’s too late now. I found out too late…. | |
| |
| I got a dream of what I’ll do some day: | |
| I want to quit this drug stuff altogether, | |
| Have a nice office, with a big oak desk, | 40 |
| And sell just real estate. I’d like to bet | |
| I’d make a clean-up at it. It’d be swell, | |
That office….
But this life is killin’ me. | |
| It’s the fool questions they keep askin’ me! | |
| You see that clock there? Well, just on a guess | 45 |
| Three times an hour some silly fish comes in here | |
| And calls me out, and asts me, “Is that right?— | |
| Is your clock right?” Honest to Heaven, lady, | |
| One day I got so sore I took a hammer | |
| And smashed the face in. And it cost twelve dollars | 50 |
| To fix it. But I had peace for a week. | |
| Oh, gosh, my nerves!…. But that’s the way it is. | |
| I’m sorry I spoke so rough about that tappin’, | |
| But when I get to sellin’ real estate, | |
| They’ll be no place where folks can take a coin | 55 |
| And tap, and tap, till I come runnin’ out. | |
That’s a man’s business!….
If I ever get it…. | |
| |
