Aces and eights.
Go ahead and deal,
but I don't want the dead man's hand,
Aces and eights could win the game,
then leave me lost in a Daemon's land.
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Place your soul upon the table,
Try to win a pot of gold,
Try and bluff them if you're able,
Stay in the game and do not fold.
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Whisky fumes and pungent smoke,
Cloud up the room and makes you cry,
You draw a card and you almost choke,
You've filled a straight and it's aces high.
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With a leering sneer you show your straight,
You reach across to claim your prize,
But a snarling voice tells you to wait;
Two knaves and three sixes are before your eyes.
-----------------------
All is lost, the dealings done,
You pick up your hat and walk away,
You have lost it all, your soul is gone,
The Daemon's hand has won the day.
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Ambrose Ni HAirt
Scattered Thoughts 2.
