R.G. Evans
Madame Tabasco
Madame Tabasco had two gloves of human skin
The only thing that seemed to help her keep the fire in
She oiled them to keep them soft and sprayed them with perfume
Then she hung them under Buddha in the corner of her room
Buddha on his altar watched the gloves with Jesus Christ
They kept each other company and ate basmati rice
And every now and then they’d touch the gloves and fantasize
About Madame Tabasco and the fire in her eyes
Every night at sundown Madame T would take those gloves
They’d perch right on her hands just like a pair of mourning doves
She’d wave goodbye to Jesus and pat Buddha for good luck
Then go to town and disappear til the midnight hour struck
Every night at midnight Madame T came home again
But Jesus Christ and Buddha never asked her where she’d been
She’d take the gloves off steaming hot and hang them on a hook
Then she’d go and start a fire thumbing through her ledger book
Madame Tabasco went to bed at half past twelve
She’d take the gloves but leave the Buddha and poor Jesus shelved
Jesus Christ and Buddha dreamed all night with fevered brains
About Madame Tabasco and the fire in her veins
Listen to “Madame Tabasco”