My gambling addiction
is passed off as fiction,
but it does cause friction
with the wife.
I bet on the horses
at many race courses
and I am remorseless;
it’s my life.
I’ve borrowed some money
and, no, that’s not funny.
I can’t tell my honey;
she’d be mad.
Now some of my lenders
are denting my fenders.
They could be game enders.
This is bad.
I’m betting a pot
on one last long shot,
the last chance I’ve got
in this life.
So, if I’m found dead,
two shots to the head,
I’ve made my own bed.
Goodbye wife.