The Gambler is proudly sponsored by Craig Penn-Tonkin

The Gambler

On a warm summer’s evenin’
on a train bound for nowhere,
I met up with the gambler;
we were both too tired to sleep.
So we took turns a starin’
out the window at the darkness
’til boredom overtook us,
and he began to speak.

He said, son, I’ve made a life
out of readin’ people’s faces,
And knowin’ what their cards were
by the way they held their eyes.
So if you don’t mind my sayin’,
I can see you’re out of aces.
For a taste of your whiskey
I’ll give you some advice.

So I handed him my bottle
and he drank down my last swallow.
Then he bummed a cigarette
and asked me for a light.
And the night got deathly quiet,
and his face lost all expression.
Said, if you’re gonna play the game, boy,
ya gotta learn to play it right.


You got to know when to hold ’em,
know when to fold ’em,
Know when to walk away
and know when to run.
You never count your money
when you’re sittin’ at the table.
There’ll be time enough for countin’
when the dealin’s done.

Now ev’ry gambler knows
that the secret to survivin’
Is knowin’ what to throw away
and knowing what to keep.
’cause ev’ry hand’s a winner
and ev’ry hand’s a loser,
And the best that you can hope for
is to die in your sleep.

So when he’d finished speakin’,
he turned back towards the window,
Crushed out his cigarette
and faded off to sleep.
And somewhere in the darkness
the gambler, he broke even.
But in his final words I found
an ace that I could keep.