Queen of Hearts

The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts,
Or so the story’s told,
The Jack of Hearts, he stole those tarts
And soon they all were sold.

That’s more or less the tale, I guess.
The Jack won indiscreetly,
But the Queen of Hearts out in our parts
Has changed the plot completely.

O, she was smart, our Queen of Hearts,
She played her hand with skill,
For she was the tart who stole the heart
Of every John, Jack and Jill.

Yes, even the women, who till thereunto
Had scorned the girl, were sold.
Though they hated the way she earned silver, they’d say
That her heart was purest gold.

That tag “Queen of Hearts” first found its start
When she grubstaked men on the skids.
When a miner was killed, big baskets she filled
To help out his wife and his kids.

When a mucker’s luck had run amuck,
She’d be right there with a handout.
When illness struck, the Queen of Hearts stuck,
Tending the sick till it panned out.

Yes, she was that pearl—the good bad girl,
Our Queen of Hearts, the original.
No one could hurl a stone at that girl—
That thoroughly kind individual.

The Queen of Hearts was a work of art,
No one’s counted the hearts that she won yet,
But many a heart was torn apart
The day she rode off in the sunset.

. . . Dee Strickland Johnson © 2007