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On a warm summer's evenin' on a train bound for nowhere,
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I met up with the gambler; we were both too tired to sleep.
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So we took turns a starin' out the window at the darkness
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'til boredom overtook us, and he began to speak.
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He said, "Son, I've made a life out of readin' people's faces,
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and knowin' what their cards were by the way they held their eyes.
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And if you don't mind my sayin', I can see you're out of aces.
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For a taste of your whiskey I'll give you some advice."
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So I handed him my bottle and he drank down my last swallow.
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Then he bummed a cigarette and asked me for a light.
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And the night got deathly quiet, and his face lost all expression.
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Said, "If you're gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn
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to play it right.
CHORUS:
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You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em,
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know when to walk away and know when to run.
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You never count your money when you're sittin' at the table.
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There'll be time enough for countin' when the dealin's done.
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Ev'ry gambler knows that the secret to survivin'
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is knowin' what to throw away and knowing what to keep.
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'Cause ev'ry hand's a winner and ev'ry hand's a loser,
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and the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep."
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And when he'd finished speakin', he turned back towards the window,
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crushed out his cigarette and faded off to sleep.
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And somewhere in the darkness the gambler, he broke even.
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But in his final words I found an ace that I could keep.