Seated at the table
With a bourbon by his side
The roughly shaven cowhand
Felt the other players lied
One man across was smiling
Raking chips in from the pot
Another scooped the cards away
And also smiled a lot
The cowhand sensed they’d cheated
Having played him for a mug
He wasn’t sure just how it worked
All three sat looking smug
Around them people gathered
One player laid a double
Our cowhand laid the same but three
The crowd knew that meant trouble
Three player’s smiles now faded
The cowhand stood and spoke
But his six-gun did the talking
Leaving three white wisps of smoke
© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes
David Threadgold www.davidthreadgold.com
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/5-three-down/
