Pistols and Poker

Down in old Kentucky where the lamplight glows. Where the whiskey burns slow and

the river wind blows. He walks through the door with a wink and

a smile. Every pair of eyes freezes, just for a while.

With a silk-lined vest and a silver-edged gun. He's got stories that stretch from

here to the sun. They say luck ain't real, just a gambler's

hope. But he makes his luck with a smirk and a stroke.

He plays for four kings with a finger on the trigger. Lady Luck leans

in and his grin grows bigger. You can bet your boots and your last cigar.