by Ivan Bennett The City were a place called Chicago, The year were nineteen twenty-nine. The whole of America was feeling depressed And so was a young friend of mine. He had speculated all of his savings, Like others, on bonds, shares and stocks Then something called Wall Street crashed to the ground Leaving his finances dashed on the rocks. This friend of mine had a young family. His kids and his wife he did love. As he stood on the bridge at midnight He looked up at the Heavens above. He thought suicide was the answer, There was insurance to be paid on his life. At least, he assumed, that they wouldn't starve, The kids and the cat and the wife. A man walking by t'river shouted At my friend as he prepared for his jump. "What yer doing? Yer likely t'get killed! Get down now, you stupid great lump!" My friend related his story. His whole sorry tale he did tell. "They won't pay a suicide," his new friend declared, "But my idea might do just as well! "In that restaurant, just across t'road there, Al Capone and his cronies are eating. You go in the joint and insult Capone And break up their little meeting. "Have a pop at Capone and thump him. He'll kill you with no more to do. You'll be dead and collect the insurance And yer wife'll be proud of you too. "'Cos I work for the press, I take photos, A few snaps of the scene I will take. With syndicate rights sold worldwide A pretty few dollars I'll make. "I'll divvy up half to your missus, We'll be rich as Croesus you'll see, Or rather, you won't be rich, young feller, But the wine at yer wake'll flow free!" So over the road the two of them went. My friend burst in through the door. He went up to Capone and chinned him, He called him names and he cussed and he swore. "What a brave little feller you are!" said Capone, He just stood up and then gave a wink, "Anyone who dares to do that to Capone Must surely deserve a strong drink! "Put yer guns away lads, this feller is brave, He's obviously in need of a feed. Come over here, pull up a chair, Have some grub and owt else that ya need!" "It's all going wrong," thought my young friend, "Something else is in order, I think." He was sat next to Sal, Al Capone's moll And she winked as she poured him a drink "That's it!" thought he, as he winked back at her, "I must flirt and come on to young Sal, If I come on real dirty Al's bound to get shirty He won't want me to get off with his gal!" So he tickled her chin and stroked her hair He leered at her bottom and chest But Capone took no notice, weren't bothered at all And he wondered what's best to do next. Well, he put his hand on her kneecap And slid it from kneecap to thigh. It was then that she slipped a note to him And gave out a dirty long sigh. "Before you get any more daring," The note in her handwriting said, "Be very careful about how you react Or we could both end up bloody well dead. "When you slide your hand even further To my knickers inside of my dress And you find summat you wasn't expecting Just act natural - signed - Elliot Ness"
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