Kenneth T. Schofield (Wildomak, California, USA)
The Dying Gamblers Story
In a little secret Gambling house in a city known for fame
There sits a man of tender years his head bowed down in shame
That young man told a story as sad as can be
And if you will but listen this is what he said to me.
A year ago I had a wife but she was called one day
And as she lay so near to death she pressed my hand to say
I'm giving you my wedding ring to cherish all your life
And with these words the reaper called away my loving wife.
Soon I started gambling til I never had a thing
And on a hand I thought would win I bet my dead wife's ring
I drew the card and looked at it, Oh God I cried aloud
I've lost my dead wife's wedding ring to this drunken jeering around.
When he had finished speaking he bowed his head and sighed
And we who heard his story knew that he had died
But that dying gamblers story didn't mean a thing
Too bad they said, dealt the cards, and bet his dear wife's ring.
Comments about this poem (The Dying Gamblers Story by Kenneth T. Schofield )
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