The heartless years have many hopes dispelled.
But they have left me one dear night in June.
They've left the still white splendor of the moon.
They've left the mem'ry of a hand I held,
While up thro' all my soul the rapture welled
Of victory. I hear again the croon
Of twilight time, the lullaby that soon
To all the day's glad music shall have swelled.
I hold a hand I never held before,
A hand like which I'll never hold some more.
It was the first time I had ever "called."
'Twas at the club, as we began to leave.
I held five aces, but the dealer balled
The ones that he had planted up his sleeve.