Dead-Man's Hand

By Mark Miner

In a smoky bar in Leadville

On a frosty winter's night,

When the mountains held their breath still

Beneath the frigid light,

Four men sat playing poker

With their faces deathly grim

Little knowing that a joker

Brought the Reaper in with him.

With an ace of clubs and spades,

And eights of suits the same,

The nervy gambler held his place

Risking all to win the game,

A smile upon his face.

A fold, a fold, and then a frown,

The moment seemed to freeze in space,

An ace of diamonds, then of hearts,

And eights of suits the same,

The last card fell, the table starts,

A gasp, a hush, and then it came,

A shot, a cry, the lamp was out,

The oil flared up, but it was doused,

Another shot, a light, a shout,

And on the table, one full house.