Why I Gamble

The reason why I gamble, I ought to tell the truth. Those squalid tales I spun before… Well, don’t go seeking proof. The one about the heart op And my desperate plight for cash - A pack of lies, I’m fit and well (Except a little rash). And then there was the other one About my mental health And descent into depression And the quest for joy through wealth. And when you saw me on the street In front of the casino, I wept and cried ‘I have no friends, So where else can I go. I haven’t tasted human warmth For such a countless while, At least when dealing out the cards The croupier gives a smile.’ And when you looked concerned I said ‘Don’t fret, it’s human weakness. But I’ve joined a local church And hope to find a cure through Jesus.’ Then soon as you were out of sight I dodged into the bookies And put a tenner on a nag (You’ll think The Devil took me). And when this news got back to you You started that campaign To ‘Save Our Al’ from brimstone wrath And flaming pitchfork pain. And when the cash came rolling in You gave it to my Mum, And told her it was for The welfare of her troubled son. Now she was pretty mystified And thought you were deranged. She used the cash to buy a car And just gave me the change. But with all your selfless efforts, I feel a little mean. It’s time to set the record straight. I’m ready to come clean. You see. The reason that I gamble, There’s no tragic tale of sin. The reason that I gamble: It’s because I always win.