In an abandoned cañon,
A Gambler’s Ghost arose.
He muttered there, ‘The moon’s a sack
Of dust.’ His voice rose thin:
‘I wish I knew the miner-man.
I’d play, and play to win.
In every game in Cripple-creek
Of old, when stakes were high,
I held my own. Now I would play
For that sack in the sky.
The sport would not be ended there.
‘Twould rather be begun.
I’d bet my moon against his stars,
And gamble for the sun.
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To be intoned, all but the two italicized lines, which are to be spoken in a snappy, matter-of-fact way.
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In which he is remembered in similitude, by reference to Yorick,
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I
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