'Twas Tightpurse Bill, from Castlemaine,
that won the lotto prize;
he threw away his worn-out clothes,
gold bullion in his eyes.
He laughed so hard at fate's cruel twist,
divorce ink not yet dry;
his flighty wife, love of his life,
left seeking bluer sky.
'Twas Dollar Bill, the self-proclaimed,
that strutted down Main Street;
new suit did buy, and pinstripe tie,
Armani for his feet.
He chose a house, Ferrari too,
and planned a holiday;
to climates fair, with ladies bare,
and lots of games to play.
'Twas Broken Bill, with cash unclaimed,
that shot to instant fame;
Your ticket, I fear, (said the cashier)
is in your ex-wife's name!
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