Nobody Argues with Harry

Nobody can argue with Harry.
His smile alone will lay you flat.
He’ll light a cigarette
and, leaning on the bar,
gazing straight through his opponent,
he’ll simply keep quiet.

With the heavy argument of a lifted brow
Harry will knock off his stool any fiery logician.
Fate has been generous and today assigns him
the honoured place of a seasoned man
and a sage of plainly great renown.

And most of all because, to the end, he never erred
by arguing with a girl in high heels.
Nor by letting on whether he’d dabbled
in wagers, horses, cards
or in some other vice.

Just with his hands propped on the bar,
he’ll bestow on you a wide grin.
That was Harry. The boy held in esteem.
A boy of whom you couldn’t tell at first reading
whether he had any money.

Today nobody can argue with Harry.
And why? Because
the trick’s been exposed.
Harry had left.
Harry’s been gone a long while.

And he won’t show up again.
And why? Because
the bar is closed.
Tonight and tomorrow...
Alas!