Poor old Turf the Gambler, he was a friend of mine
Crashed upon the pavement by the Beast
We'd been playing poker, of course, and drinking wine
When we heard his soul had been released

We glued him back together and passed a hat around
Paid to have it stitched above his bed
Embroidered words he'd spoken would greet his tired eyes
When he awoke, transfixed but not dead

Poor old Turf thе Gambler and now he tells his talе
And shows his scars from here to Hollywood
To waitresses and actresses and princes who preside
Over everything you thought was gone for good

Poor old Turf the Gambler