The Street Called Crooked

“Bon soir, monsieur,” they called to me;
And, “Venez voir nos femmes.”
“Bon soir, mesdames,” they got from me,
And, “J’ai une meilleure dame.”

“To meet strange lips and foreign eyes
I did not cross the foam,
I have a dearer, fairer prize
Who waits for me at home.”

“Her eyes are browner, lips more red
Than any lady’s light;
’Twould grieve her heart and droop her head
If I failed her tonight.”

“Bon soir, mesdames; que Dieu vous garde;
And catch this coin I throw;
The ways of life are bleak and hard,
Ladies, I think you know.”

A bright and crooked street it gleamed
With light and laughter filled;
All night the warm wine frothed and streamed
While souls were stripped and killed.