Let me speak your future luv; Hand me your palm don’t be a moocher luv and I will release the fog that eludes us from above. Tell me your name luv; I’ll speak of your pain luv, of lost relatives and dear ones to whom our love behove.

My name is Alice Jones and I’ve been all left alone. For my love has forsaken me to bare and empty home.

Cross my palm with silver, I don’t mean to bewilder, but release the mist that clouds your very sight. Let me give it a swift bite; your fee is deemed alright and your payment is good enough for me.

Well deary let me see, oh there’s pain in your history. But look! This line is strong, before very long, you’ll meet a treat of a man who’ll fill your days with money and song.

Off you go now; don’t ask me how; but your true love awaits – that’s a solemn vow.

In they come, I give them what they want and in return I eat another day. What’s that you say? I treat in a most uncharitable way? Bah get lost, I got you sussed. Just another beggar wanting to pass the cost.


 ©DJA 2016

 

From The Rogues’ Gallery

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Cover: The Fortune Teller by Caravaggio

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