Crushing defeat,
No chips left at your seat,
Going all in,
With the hope you would win,
Yet now you are bereft,
With no hand to play left,
Next week you return,
To your wallet’s concern,
But adrenaline now flows,
Heads up – your opponent’s hand he shows,
A sparkle of red,
He has the full flush.
Five hearts stare at you dead,
But your face does not blush,
For he mistook your slow play,
For a hand higher – no way,
But as you unfurl your last card,
With a grin wider than a yard,
Two Aces and three Kings flash,
A Full House brings in the cash.

And thats why every man who plays knows,
There is no greater thrill that comes and goes,
Each week in that small, dark corner of the local pub,
The lad triumphant walks off with notes betwixt his hands he does rub,
For next week he will return,
And leave broke…. but happy – with no concern.

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