On a warm summers evening, on a train bound for nowhere, I met up with a gambler, we were both too tired to sleep,

so we took turns of staring at the window at the darkness to boredom overtook us and he began to speak he said

son I've made a life out of reading people's faces knowing what the cards were by the way they held

their eyes.

So if you don't mind my saying, I can see you're out of aces for a taste of your whiskey I'll give you some

advice so I handed him my bottle and he drank down my last swallow

Then he bombed a cigarette and asked me for a night and the night got deathly quiet and his face lost all expression said if you're

gonna play the game boy you gotta learn to play it right you got to know when to know when to hold up

No when to fold up

No when to walk away

And know when to run. You never count your money. When you're sitting at the

table there'll be time enough for counting when the deal is done.

Every gambler knows that the secret to survive in is knowing what to throw away

knowing what to keep cause every hands a winner and every hands a winner,

hands a loser, and the best that you can hope for

is to die in your sleeve.

And when he finished speaking, he turned back toward the window,

crushed out a cigarette, faded off to sleep,

and somewhere in the darkness the gambler he broke even but in his

final words I found an ace that I could keep. You got to know when to hold. No when to fold up. No when to walk away.

And no when to run. You never count your money. When you're sitting at the

table, there'll be time enough for counting. When the deal is done you got to know when to hold

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