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Let the man get his money
Throughout all my life, I tried to act smart
And once, I was driving in a golf cart
With a partner who seemed a little retard
Who was always protected by a bodyguard
I was young and bold, he was old and lame
When he lost in golf, he challenged me for another game
A game of poker, baccarat, roulette
With a gun to my head, I couldn’t say net*
I knew the dices were loaded, from the start
It’s not just the money that were at stake
The old dude wanted to steal my soul
I didn’t have right for a single mistake
Despite the odds I won in his game
He was upping the ante, all the same
Blackjack,3 cards and finally – crap
Yet, he failed to catch me in his devilish trap
My guardian angel was too strong for him
It defeated the old piranha
He waived to his goons and uttered the words:
Let the man get his money…
***
August 25,2009
poem
by
Slava Olchevski
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