I make my money selling speakeasy gin
Defying logic and law
Every time the blind pig comes to take his cut
He wears a sickly look on his jaw
I know I've got a tarnished reputation
But man I sure can think on my toes
I know it's not the finest station in life
But sometimes that''s how it goes
I am a man of low consequence
I rarely recognize my fill
But when I do I go to Ponchetrain
And spend a little time with my still
I am not qualified to evangelize
Or to straighten crooked dice
But take it from your uncle call it bootlegger's advice
Vices are the spices of my life
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