Ballad Of The Bingo Hall Poem by Karl Newton

The ballad of the bingo hall
Sweaty old eyes fall into a deep green rage
If you so dare to call
They only wanted 1 number
But you beat them to it
And took all the money
Bingo caller who thinks his funny
Makes out like his doing you a favour
Like this is his money
His ego reckons you've come for his entertainment
You're not customers you're a crowd
And he is tonight's headline act
Without him this place would be nothing
Matter of fact
Or so his mother tells him
People here spending their last pennys
So desperate for a win
Wanting it too much
Making the bingo gods grin
A curse of unluckiness
Long sweats
And near calls
That's just the way them bingo balls fall
Full of old dears
Rocking up on the ring and ride
Fish and chips and toffees
And naps in the chair
Spending their hard earned pension
Without a worry or a care