**THE WITCH AT TABLE SEVEN** They called me a fortune teller. That was cute. I knew the future, darling... but tonight? I already knew the past. I kept my cards beneath the counter, Black lace wrapped around my hand, Every Friday after midnight, The wicked gathered where I stand. No sign above the doorway, No name upon the wall, Just three knocks after midnight And a shadow in the hall. The ladies wore their diamonds, The gentlemen wore their lies, And every soul who crossed my threshold Left a little less disguised. Gin was flowing like a river, Jazz was crawling through the room, And my sisters sat together In the corner dressed in gloom. Seven candles on the table, Seven glasses lined in red, One was waiting for the living... One was waiting for the dead. Come sit with the coven, Come drink with the damned, There's money on the piano And blood upon my hand. Don't ask me who was guilty, Don't ask me who was true, The cards don't tell you everything... Sometimes they tell me you. Jazz, gin, money and murder, That's the price of playing wrong, And when the witch begins her story, You'd better listen to the song. There was Frankie with the fortune, Louise with the pearl-white smile, A crooked little politician Who had been cheating all the while. There was Johnny in the corner, Counting twenties in the dark, And a woman called Miss Ruby With a raven on her heart. She slipped me one black dollar And whispered, “Read for me.” I turned the Queen of Swords And she laughed... like she knew what I would see. Then the trumpet stopped its crying, And the room went strangely still, Somebody locked the backroom door, Somebody lost their nerve and will. The candles leaned toward midnight, The shadows crossed the floor, Then came one sharp little scream... And silence. Nothing more. Come sit with the coven, Come drink with the damned, There's money on the piano And blood upon my hand. Don't ask me who was guilty, Don't ask me who was true, The cards don't tell you everything... Sometimes they tell me you. Jazz, gin, money and murder, Four notes in a devil's song, And when the witch begins her story, You'd better listen close... before you're gone. When the lights came back around, The gentleman was dead, His fortune had disappeared, His pistol by the bed. Miss Ruby wasn't crying. Frankie couldn't speak. Louise was staring at the doorway With a secret on her cheek. Johnny dropped his money, The politician fled, And someone left a lipstick kiss Beside the victim's head. They searched beneath the tables, They searched beneath the floor, But nobody thought to question The witch beside the door. I knew who held the weapon. I knew who paid the price. I knew whose little secret Had just become somebody's vice. But witches keep their bargains, And covens keep their vows. Besides... the dead man had a secret too. And secrets always come around. So I shuffled up the tarot, Watched the Queen of Swords appear, Then turned the Death card over And smiled into the mirror. “Everybody drink your gin now, There's nothing left to fear. The killer's still among you... And I've known it all year.” Come sit with the coven, Come drink with the damned, There's money on the piano And blood upon my hand. Don't ask me who was guilty, Don't ask me who was true, The cards don't tell you everything... But tonight they pointed straight at you. Jazz, gin, money and murder, Let the wicked dance along, The devil plays the trumpet, And the witch controls the song. So raise your glass to Samhain, Let the black notes fill the room, Because every speakeasy has a secret... And every secret has a tomb. Seven candles... Six still burning. Five cards... One missing. And darling... if you're wondering where the seventh went— [soft laugh] ...look under your chair. Goodnight.
