WANDERIN MAN
“ON THE ROAD - MARDI GRAS”
Bourbon street beckons
time an again
So I take in the scenery
any time I can
Ladies of the evenin
many my friends
look out fer my happiness
until each day ends.
Waitress’s an dealers,
warms hearts an cold hands.
Still haven’t met one
who fits into my plans.
Less’n I count my sweet Mary
back in Atlantic City,
I already mentioned
she’s mighty purtty.
The culture on the circuit
makes friends hard to trust.
So carryin’ protection
is a definite must.
A friend at Smith-N-Wesson
provided my best friend.
Ya kin call it protection,
or a means to an end.
Cards on the table
should I fold er stand?
No matter the decision,
my gun’s always at hand.
I’ve never seen the dealer,
nor none of the players afore.
They’re damn hard to read,
but I’m still keepin score.
I’ve been a playin my cards
“close to the vest.”
It’s a card room saying
I’m a puttin to the test.
Tha game, Texas Hold-em,
the stakes, pot limit,
but ya cain’t win a hand
less’n you’re in it.
Most of the time,
I’m in for the flop,
three more cards
afore the bet takes a pop.
Playin “close to tha vest”
means folding on crap,
the way my cards are runnin,
I should jist go take a nap.
Finally I hit “trips,,,,”
with a jack fer my kicker.
I’m hoping like hell
the pot’ll get bigger.
I check to the man
who’s been doin the talkin,
he bets the limit,
I’m still jist a stalkin.
With some hesitation
finally I make the call,
thinking with the next card
I might put in it all.
The “River” cards a Jack,
and it fills up my “boat.”
Seems he’s playin a flush,
there’s no way it’ll float.
So, again I “check,”
he’s in fer the limit.
I raise back,
hopin he’ll “all in” it.
Well, he takes my bait
flyin out a his chair,
but when he sees my hand
he’ll be pullin out his hair.
As I roll over my “boat,”
his face starts to melt,
after that hand,
he’s “down to tha felt.”
I know he ain’t happy,
it’s all over his face,
I beat his big flush
an he’s feelin disgraced.
He’d been doin the talkin
now he had nothin to say,
so I offered my condolence
as he was steppin away.
I threw the dealer
a man sized tip,
as I called for the banker
to tally my chips.
Copyright © 2011 Richard Lee King. All Rights Reserved.
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Anna
Donna
You could write a book of this wanderin' man stuff.
Ron