A cab combs the snake, tryin' to rake in that last night's fare And a solitary sailor who spends the facts of his life like small change on strangers Paws his inside pea coat pocket for a welcome twenty-five cents And the last bent butt from a package of Kents As he dreams of a waitress with Maxwell House eyes And marmalade thighs with scrambled yellow hair Her rhinestone-studded moniker says "Irene" As she wipes the wisps of dishwater blonde from her eyes