The Racetrack 28 Friday Feb 2014 Posted by Caro Field in poetry ≈ 2 Comments 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! 51.431221 -0.064200 Share this:TwitterFacebookLinkedInEmailPinterestLike this:Like Loading...
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!