"Across the board," he rasped,
and laid his lucre down.
Let just this one come in today
and he'd be on the town.
The odds were long, the nag had heart,
and led from line to line.
He collected big, "My lucky day! . . .
Just shed the cough, and I"ll be fine."
But Lady Luck, capricious wench,
too soon was on her way.
The pain grew worse, the rasp held on,
day after passing day.
The doc was grim, he brought bad news
from frightful tests they ran:
"We're in a battle you could lose,
we'll do the best we can."
The fight was on, with deadly rays
aimed in the monster's lair.
Apothecary's witches' brew
made nasty, sickening fare.
More rays and tests, and time stood still
then came the fateful day;
the doctor smiled, "You've won the fight,
the beast has run away."
His heart regained its beat once more,
the future wasn't dim.
The life that was in others' hands
had been returned to him . . .
Wagers won are small potatoes
in a world of black and gray.
From humble depths, he murmured:
"Thank God...this, is my lucky day."