Tom McLarty's Hands

Monday morning, I woke up with the fragments of an "Irish ditty" in my brain, a leftover of the dream from which I had just emerged. For some reason, I was sufficiently amused by it that I wrote it down - and then kept writing. Once I had the ditty fleshed out, I called my friend Gordon, an Irish Lutheran minister (no, that's not a new synod - He's Irish and he's Lutheran). Gordon roared with laughter as I read him my poem, and concluded that I had probably been channeling a dead Irishman. I have to agree - because this is not my usual genre, to say the least.


Tom McLarty's Hands

Back home, I had a friend, and
Tom McLarty was his name.
He lost his job for liquor,
But he had one claim to fame.
His nose was red and ruddy,
And his hair stuck out in strands,
But the finest thing about him,
Was Tom McLarty's hands.

Ol' Tom he was a drunkard,
And a skallywag at best.
A thief, a rake, a liar,
And was always penniless.
But still he found great favor
With the girls throughout the land.
See, what they found amazin'
Was Tom McLarty's hands.

Well, Tommy came to me one night,
Asking for a game.
He needed funds for women
Whom he sought to entertain.
I asked him for his ante,
As I dealt the final hand.
But all ol' Tommy had to bet
Was Tom McLarty's hands.

I dealt the cards with vigor,
And I had a royal set.
I slammed the cards down right away,
And called him on his bet.
A two of spades, a three of clubs,
And nothing that was grand:
A losin' deal if 'ere you saw,
Was Tom McLarty's hand.

"That's not the way the game is played"
Said Tommy with a cry.
"Ya' take my hands away from me,
I swear that I will die!"
"Ya' made a deal, ya' pay the bet,"
I said, as off we ran,
To see the doc, so I could get
Tom McLarty's hands.

The doctor sewed 'em on just fine,
And handed me the bill.
I pulled my wallet out to pay,
But had an empty till.
I lied and said I'd pay next week,
Collateral be damned.
We sealed the deal with but a shake
Of Tom McLarty's hand.

Ol' Tom had hands that loved to roam,
And soon my woes increased.
The hands would steal from night til noon,
And then, with no relief,
They'd spend the evenings lookin' for
Some drink and contraband.
I wish'd I'd never taken on
Tom McLarty's hands.

The hands they took me to a house,
They knocked upon the door.
In answer came a woman fair,
I'd never seen before.
"My husband, he's away for now,
Come in and have a dram."
I did, and soon she found herself
In Tom McLarty's hands.

Her husband, he came home just then,
And saw me with his wife.
He had a pistol at his side,
And with it took my life.
He called the undertaker, who
Came quick at his command,
And folded neat upon my chest
Tom McLarty's hands.

And so the Devil came to get me
For the trip below.
I begged him to be kind, and begged him
Please to let me go.
He said he'd hear my offer,
And the dickering began.
All because I'd coveted
Tom McLarty's hands.

"I'll let you go back home," said he,
"I'll let you go away.
But you must give me somethin' for
My troubles here today."
I told the Devil I don't lie,
And that I understand,
As I crossed the crooked fingers of
Tom McLarty's hands.

I tol' Satan I had for him

Quite a treasure trove:

The best of everything on Earth

And from that place above.

He was not fooled, for who can pay

The ransom he demands?

He roared to see that all I had

Was Tom McLarty's hands.

And so the Devil made a deal
To keep or cut me loose.
"We'll play a round of poker,
And let the winner choose."
I prayed to get a royal flush,
Or something just as grand.
Alas, the cards he dealt me
Was Tom McLarty's hand.

So now I sit in Hell all day,
And give Satan his due.
I swear that this is but the truth.
I swear it through and through.
I'd swear it on the Bible, but
That book down here is banned,
So I swear to you by raisin' up
Tom McLarty's hands.