A devious old codger called Jack,
Spent every hour that he could at the track,
He’d lay bet after bet,
On what odds he could get,
As long as he’d something to back!
The Racetrack
28 Friday Feb 2014
Posted in poetry
Caro Field Author
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And poor Jack ended flat on his back, The longer you play, they less they will pay.
Afraid so William! And if you do, it becomes more and more addictive!