THE GAMBLER AND
THE MARTINGALE

 

(i) The Gambler Addresses The Martingale

Said the gambler to the martingale:
You’ve ruined me, you fiend;
You tricked me with a fairy tale,
And now I stand demeaned.

You promised me a rich reward,
Instead, you stole my purse;
Your system is to be abhorred,
A pox on you, a curse!

You are a wretch, a bacillus,
Your heart is black as sin,
Your talk is fabulous
As is your promise of a win.

But talk is all you’ve ever done,
Your boast is loud and brash,
But when you’ve won,
It’s penny ante; when you’ve lost, it’s CASH!

I’m through with you forevermore,
You’ve brought me naught but strife,
Where I was modest now I’m poor,
So get out of my life.

(ii) The Martingale Replies

You call me wretched but there’s none
As sick or low as you,
For our liaison was begun
Your future to accrue.

You cared for naught but worldly wealth,
So deep were you obsessed
You paid no heed to love nor health
Nor e’en the way you dressed.

Your mind was on a single track,
Yet lower still you sank,
Until there was no turning back,
It’s not me you should thank,

Or blame, but you, your lust and greed,
Your gullibility,
For coveting what you don’t need...
And thinking you’d be given it for free.

Back To Poetry Index