(20 minute poetry)
Fortune favours the fortunate,
forget about it favouring the brave,
we are slaves to the knaves and the
queen,
king of spades.

The brave fade fast and no fortunes can last
as the dealer throws a pack in the shoe.

What
is nothing new and why it was something to do don't deter and chemin de fer for a fee
cannot make a gambler
or set a man free.

I remain the scab on the night sky,
the pauper that begs you and
you pass me by.

The moon be my fortune
the stars be my trove.

And so I rove
I'm a river
a rover,
two aces up my sleeve two
times over and that's four
of a kind and I find in the
end I don't mind
if I do.