O life is a game of poker
And I've played it straight to the end;
But the last chip's down on the table
And I'm done with the game, my friend.

The fire in my blood it flickers
Like a guttering candle light,
When the tallow beads in greasy tears
And the wind whips in from the night.

The deck was stacked by the Dealer
Before He would let me in;
The cards were marked, and I knew it—
There was never a chance to win.

But I bluffed the game to a finish—
Till He nodded and called my hand—
Palms empty and crossed—but the lips still smile—
And the Dealer will understand.