This was a game for the best of the best
Those who had crumbled, they had all left
Now at the table were four expert players
You could count on all of them, they were the stayers
They felt confident, that they were in with a chance
This game was their game, they knew the steps of this dance
But then at the doorway appeared a spectacular sight
They glanced up and received a terrible fright
For standing there in all of his glory
Was the Ciggie-Wiggie bluffster, now that is a story
This man was notorious throughout the land
For winning every time with nothing in his hand
He'd sit there calmly with a blank look on his face
And his opponent would start sweating, his heart would race
He'd fidget and fuss, his hands would start shaking
Even when he knew that the bluffster was faking
Because although he knew with his logical mind
That a hand full of nothing was all that he'd find
He'd fold every time, could not take the pressure
Those blank eyes had spooked him, he did not have their measure
(Sydney, Australia - 2003)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem