One summer's evening, on a train bound for Georgia met up with a gambler, We were both too tired to sleep. So we took turns to steer, out the window at the darkness till boredom over-took us then he began to speak. He said, Son, I've made a life out of readin'people's faces knowin'what their cards were by the way they held their eyes. So if you don't mind my sayin'I can see you're out of aces; for a taste of your whiskey I'll give you some advice." So I handed him my bottle, and he drank doen my last swallow. Then he bummed a cigarette and asked me for a light. And the night got a little quiet, and his face lost all expression. Said If you're gonna play the game boy, you gotta learn to play it right. You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em. Know when to walk away and know when to run. You never count your money when you're sittin'at the table. Ther'll be time enough for countin'when the dealin's done." now ev'ry gambler knows that the secret to survival Is knowin'what to throw away and knowin'what to keep. 'Cause ev'ry hand's a winner, and ev'ry hand's a loser. And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep." And when he'd finished speakin'he turned back towards the window. Thrust out a cigarette and faded off to sleep. And somewhere in the darkness, the gambler he broke even. But in his final words, I found an ace that I could keep. You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em. Know when to walk away and know when to run. You never count your money when you're sittin'at the table. Ther'll be time enough for countin'when the dealin's done.