You catch your third fat ace,
And your mind is in a jolly, jolly frame;
But three aces have no uses
When the next man has four deuces,
But you carry on the Same Old Game.
With four diamonds in your hand
You're apt to think you stand
Some chance of laying to the pot a claim,
But Ay! there comes the rub,
For the card you draw's a club,
But you carry on the Same Old Game.
In the days now far ahead,
When some of us are dead
And the rest on gouty feet are hobbling lame,
We shall sit and sadly muse
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