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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #2278785
Final call for a gambling man.
Leonard liked to play the wheels.
He thought roulette was best.
Sometimes poker was his game.
Played his cards close to his chest.
He'd place a bet on red or black,
Or whichever number guessed.
Didn't care much, win or lose.
Because he never bet his vest.

He'd take a spin down Vegas way,
Get a room with bed and shower.
Watching tables like a hawk,
He'd while away an hour.
Then he'd start to place his bets,
And order a whiskey sour.
He liked to spread his money round,
The more to it empower.

He's never made a killing,
Or tried to break the bank.
But at playing hard the inside bet,
He really is first rank.
And every time he wins a game,
All the gods he'll thank.
But if you asked the man to cheat,
He'd refuse you, and, point blank.

Jeu zéro calls the croupier,
She'll spin the wheel and fast.
Then sends the ball the other way,
This game is Leonard's last.
For though to zero the ball falls,
His final breath has passed.
In heaven they asked him how he did.
He said, “I had a blast.”
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