It’s dealer’s choice
and God’s the dealer,
nor do you know which cards are wild.
The game is chance
and faith the healer
each adult trusts with heart of child.
The cards have all been marked
by God
who wins the jackpot every round,
and scapegoats
whom he chose by lot
are thrown from precipice to ground.
The dealer’s choice
gives God the edge,
so do not challenge him at poker,
remember always
you’re a wretch
and he, the wild card, always joker.
4/30/98
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nifty little ditty. Mile End is a part of my East London roots, I'd like you to know.