Above, dear Hélène at work

Amélie was a good sort
at least I thought so until that day
the old cow locked me in the cellar
of her Parisian bordello and threw the key away

My crime? I didn’t cough up
the fee after the event
a caddish trick I realize now
yet my francs I’d long since spent

spent them on buckets of champers 
and a host of lovely wayward girls
oh yes and at the opium den
also on harlots clad in naught but South Sea pearls

And thus it was when I arrived
at Madam Amélie’s Maison de Tolerance
where I feasted upon her new fresh flesh
my poor excuse my inherent ignorance

When presented with the massive bill
for all the services she had rendered
but only when she drew her six-shooter
was the point that I surrendered

So now I languish in the gloom
of…