Pocketful of Miracles

Little people like me, huh? Why?
Because they like children,
beggars and poets.

And that makes me a poet?
You want to believe in something.
Right now it's my apple.
So, the little people jump in it, see?
That's why this apple will bring you luck.
Why, you old con dame. Here's
the only thing you believe in.

- There you go, Annie.
- God bless you, Dude. God bless you.

- And bring you luck straightaway.
- All right.

Hey, Annie! You stay away
from those gin bottles. You hear me?

- I never touch it.
- Yeah, sure.

- Are you Mr Dave the Dude?
- I am. Don't drip on my suit.

What is this? Grand Central? Junior,
close that door. There's liquor in here.

You lookin' for a job in the chorus, kid?
The joint's closed, so try someplace else.

- And lock it!
- I read this in a Maryland paper.

"Rudy Martin, gangland victim,
was buried today."

"Dave the Dude arranged his funeral."
- Maryland? Old Rudy really got around.
- I beg your pardon?

If you got money comin' to you, the Dude
is not pickin' up the tab for Rudy's bills.

- Now be a nice girl. Take a walk. Bye.
- Rudy Martin was my father.

You're Rudy's kid?
- You're Queenie?
- Yeah. Well, that's what Papa called me.

Hey! She ain't a horse!
- Why didn't you show at the funeral?
- I just read about it.

- You ain't pulling a fast one on me?
- Mr Dude, I'm here because of you.

Papa came to see me last month
and he was very worried.

He said "Queenie, if anything happens
to me, here's the lease to my club."

"Give it to Dave the Dude. He's a right guy
and I've got to pay him back."

So here it is. It's all signed and everything.
That's very nice,
but the joint's in hock up to here.