Cowboy stuff

Jethro was holding two pairs of tens, and that’s a mighty hand

For a man who’s pushing forty to grasp and understand.

He looked at the dealer and gave her a nod

He’d take one more card and then pray to God

That his hand was a winner that no soul could beat.

He’d gambled his dinner, and he’d quite like to eat…

Some barbecued fish at a beachside café

With a simple white wine, a crisp Chardonnay

Across from the table there sat one-eyed Jake

Who was partial himself to a nice bit of Hake.

But back to the game and its fabulous pot

Who was the winner and who grabbed the lot?

The steaks were so high they were not fit to eat

The chef slung them out in a sack marked ‘BAD MEAT’

Then served up some nachos for the gamblers instead

But Jethro had noticed that big Jake was dead

So he gathered his winnings, left the dealer a tip

Put on his hat, checked the gun on his hip

Walked slow and easy to the livery stable

He rode out of town – that’s the end of this fable

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