The Gambler
The steely-eyed hombre stepped down from the stage that sultry afternoon.
He looked about with disdain, then swaggered to the Cripple Creek Saloon.
His hat lay low upon his brow and swung low was a pair of 44's on his hips.
He sported fancy duds and greeted a few loafers with a snarl on his lips.
Jeremiah Slade was the feller's name and gamblin' was his trade.
He sauntered up to the bar and stunned the bartend by orderin' a lemonade!
Then he strolled to a table in the back of the room with his back to the wall.
(This was his usual modus operandi just in case there was a free-fer-all!)
He announced, "Boy's, my name's Jeremiah Slade and gamblin' is my game;
Join me and ante up fer a round of poker, but, boys let's keep it tame!"
Three chumps took the bait and scurried fer Jeremiah's table to grab a chair!
He let the dudes win a game or so to assure that things were fair and square.
Now, unknown to the three suckers, Slade was a professional gyp!
The scoundrel was invited to leave umpteen towns west of the Mississip!
Slade had a few tricks up a sleeve that he soon entered into play.
Mysteriously, numerous aces appeared in his draws and were on display!
The trio got wise to his game and jammed three rods in Jeremiah's face!
He was quickly consigned to eternity fer playin' too many an ace!
Jeremiah was conveyed out of town, that no-good cunnin' knave,
And now lies at the foot of Mount Pisgah a-molderin' in his grave!
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