Leroy's Bones

 

Thomas Jefferson Leroy Washington Jones

had a pair of antique African bones

that his great grand daddy years ago

bought from slave in a medicine show.

 

Leroy had a knack for tossing the dice,

make a wise man stutter, and gambler look twice.

He could go on a run lasting for hours

as if the dice were part of his powers.

 

Leroy had half the county in hock.

Three men went crazy—two were in shock.

When he rolled out those bones in an easy sweep

ladies would faint, grown men would weep.

 

Men would call odds doubling their stakes

when Leroy gave them one of his shakes.

With both hands together, he rubbed off the ice,

warming up the magic of those ivory dice.

 

One night down at the Blood 'n' Guts Pub

Leroy was giving his bones a rub.

A small crowd gathered, said Leroy

"Perhaps, some of the brothers would care for some craps!"

 

Silver Fox Smith and Asphalt Andy

stood over Leroy with their blackjacks handy.

If anyone cheated to make his point

those two dudes would tear up the joint.

 

Smoke rose blue against the night.

Fat-Frank crapped out. Slim-Jim went light.

Willie-the-Weasel asked Tall Tim for a note

while Mellow Milo unzipped his coat.

 

The turn passed to Leroy. He thumbed it down.

"I'm not using bones making that sound!

 Those dice are loaded with two grains of lead.

 Silver Fox go see that man dead."

 

Silver Fox looked at Milo. Milo just grinned.

Mellow Milo knew he should not have sinned.

Silver Fox threw Milo out in the road,

face down on the asphalt for breaking the code.

 

"Whose dice do we use now?" asked they crew.

Leroy reached in his pocket and did not say boo.

He raised up his hand and there in his palm

was a sight that would make an angry man calm.

 

"Hey brother that's some fine set of bone;

 white ivory, black onyx with an African hone.

 But do they fall true to the rate of demand

 when they roll off the fingers of a gambler's hand?"

 

Said Leroy, with an ear-to-ear smile,

"They fall as true as the strength of your style."

So the bones went tumbling across the floor,

bouncing off the back of the men’s room door.

 

The clock over the bar read quarter to four.

Everyone except Leroy was losing the war.

Smoke, sweat, booze, beer,

covered the floor like a sobering tear.

 

The game ended quick without fist or gun.

Leroy packed his pockets with what he had won.

He said fare-thee-well to his bankrolling friends.

"Tut-tut my boys, too bad that it ends.

 

The full moon shone down like a silver dollar.

Leroy jingled as he walked, turning up his collar.

Old brick building rose up like a canyon of glum.

A rat hurried by towards its home in the slum.

 

As Leroy walked the taps on his shoes

sang out a melody bathed in the blues.

He reached in his pocket, fondled a buck.

He threw it in the gutter for the lady called Luck.

 

©2000 Dan Kantak