The Gambler - Poem by Joe Hughes
He lights a fag, he takes a puff,
He's got to go outside.
He'll check the long Wincanton card
When he returns inside.
He cannot work, draws benefits.
Lives in a dirty, squalid flat.
Bronchitis mixed with asthma
Is where his health is at.
He has to drink ten pints a day
To control his alcoholic shiver.
It makes him feel so well again
But no one's told his liver!
He makes his treble selection.
If he wins he'll be rich tonight.
They all come in, big winnings made,
He holds the wad of notes real tight.
He's a gambler on the horses.
He dreams of untold wealth
But he's already lost the biggest race
From gambling on his health!
Comments about The Gambler by Joe Hughes
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You