'Twas nine o'clock on Monday morn
And Ned was full of cheek,
Depositing the cash he'd won
From gambling through the week.
The manager was curious
And asked Ned for the drum
On how he’d manage to procure
Each week a tidy sum.
"I only bet on sure things sir,"
Was how old Ned replied.
"Then show me an example friend?"
The manager enquired.
"No worries sir, I'll bet you now
Five hundred of the best
That you are wearing bright red jocks
And sir I do not jest."
The banker oozing confidence
Let out a joyous cry,
"You're on my friend!" and bared the cash,
A twinkle in his eye.
"Well drop your trousers sir," Ned said,
"Don't leave a bloke in doubt."
The banker thought the office more
A place to sort it out.
Then once inside he dropped his dacks
And with a grin he said,
"You've done your dough for you can see
These jocks are sure not red."
"Not good enough," old Ned replied,
"For they look red to me,
Perhaps it's 'cause I'm colour blind,
We'll need a referee."
"Let's ask your good Accountant sir,
To cast the final lot,"
But when the Banker called him in
He fainted on the spot.
"What's up with him?" The Banker said,
"The man's out like a light."
"He's in a state of shock," said Ned,
"But he'll come 'round all right."
"You see we waged a little bet,
A thousand he would pay,
If I could drop your dacks by ten;
A sure thing ... wouldn't you say?"