Readings: Runyon I
For forty years he’s followed the track
And played them hosses to Helenback
And they ain’t a thing he shouldn’t know, that bloke.
So I sez to him, “I want advice
On beating this dodge at a decent price.
And what have you got to tell me, old soak?”
“Well, son,” he sez, “I’ve bet and won,
And I’ve bet and lost, and when all is done
I’m sure of one thing — and only one —
All hawss players must die broke!”
Sez I, “But I see a-many a chump
With plenty o’ sugar around this dump” —
Sez I, “What system do they employ, or what is the brand they smoke?
You study the form, you study the dope
And you’re goin’ O.K., or so I hope.
I want you to gimme a line or two on how I can fill my poke!”
“Well, son,” sez he, “this racket’s tough,
And I try to learn as I do my stuff,
And I haven’t learned much
but I’ve learned enough —
All hawss players must die broke!”
Sez he, “Some live to be very old,
Till their hair gits gray and their blood gits cold,
And some of ’em almost fall apart before they up and croak.”
Sez he, “I’ve seen ’em, these noble men
Up in the dough, and out again,
In fact, I bin there a-many time myself — and that’s no joke!”
Sez he, “I’ve seen ’em in limousines
With rocks on their dukes and dough in their jeans,
But they’re all alike when they quit their scenes —
All hawss players must die broke!”
— “The Old Horse Player,” by Damon Runyon
