He said, "Son, I've made a life out of readin' people's faces,
And knowin' what the news was by the way they held their shares.
And if you don't mind my sayin', I can see you're out of choices.
For a taste of your Miller-Lite, I'll give you some advice."

So I handed him my six-pack and he drank down my last poney-can.
Then he bummed a Marlboro and asked me for a light.
And the night got deathly quiet, and his face lost all expression.
Said, "If you're gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right.

You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to trade 'em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count your money when you're sittin' at the table.
There'll be time enough for countin' when the tradin's done.

Ev'ry gambler knows that the secret to survivin'
Is knowin' what to sell away and knowing what to keep.
'Cause ev'ry hand's a winner and ev'ry hand's a loser,
And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep."

And when he'd finished speakin', he turned back towards the window,
Crushed out his cigarette and 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 'em, know when to trade 'em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count your money when you're sittin' at the table.
There'll be time enough for countin' when the tradin's done.

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