Tho' of the tribes that sink or swim,
The Gold and Silver Fish for him.
Now Pug, call Fortune to your aid,
The colour's black—the Game is made;
Trente-un—Red wins—a hardish smack!
You laid that hundred, Pug, on black;
Don't let that trifle give you trouble,
Try Black once more, and put down double.
Red wins again—Ah sound of dread!
Well now you'll have a run on Red;