With a windsome smile he arranged his hand
The pipe bobbing up and down and to the side
As would be typical the room, darkly lit
And the crafty sneer burned evil through and through
He was the joker, the player, the devil himself
Oh but he was a gentleman indeed, tipping his hat and all
Yet something behind his kind expressions 
And his seemingly thoughtful gestures
Ripped tears in all my good thoughts of him
One of the lesser devils on my shoulder shuddered
His teeth menacingly glisen hidden warnings
Trying not to stare and look at my cards
What should i play what should i keep?
I looked over the top of my cards
And his eyes were staring at me, hungrily