53 NATALIE DESSAY ∙ PHILIPPE CASSARD Once your luck is out, Once your heart’s all aflutter, You can’t make a single move Or push a coin on the table Without your luck that’s running out Changing the numbers and the cards On the tables in Monte Carlo. The louts! The idiots! The swine! They threw me out – out! – And they’re accusing me of being a jinx, Of bringing bad luck on their saloons, Their filthy stucco saloons, Me, who would have given my system Gratis, to the Prince, to the Princess, To the Duke of Westminster, to the Duke, Absolutely. ‘It’s got to stop,’ They shouted after me, ‘this business of yours.’ This business of yours? My discovery! I won’t let the green tables in on it. It serves you right, Monte Carlo, Monte Carlo. And now, I whom am talking to you, I won’t admit to you how much weight I’ve lost in Monte-Carle, Monte-Carle or Monte Carlo. I’m a mere shadow of myself . . . The martingales, the systems And the croupiers who’re allowed To rap your knuckles from a distance When you can pinch your stake back. And your lodgings you still owe for And always the same nightgown That your panic soaks for you. They can go whistle. I’m no fool. Tonight I’ll dive head first Into the sea at Monte Carlo, Monte Carlo.
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