I make my money selling speakeasy gin Defying logic and law Every time the blind pig comes to take his cut He wears a sickly look on his jaw I know I"ve got a tarnished reputation But man I sure can think on my toes I know it"s not the finest station in life But sometimes that"s how it goes I am a man of low consequence I rarely recognize my fill But when I do I go to Ponchetrain And spend a little time with my still I am not qualified to evangelize Or to straighten crooked dice But take it from your uncle call it bootlegger"s advice Vices are the spices of my life