Come gather around the well.
Come gather around the well,
I have a story to tell,
About a man who dropped a quarter
Into this black, deep water.
I have a story to tell,
About a man who dropped a quarter
Into this black, deep water.
To the well he asked for ways
To end his gambling days.
He smiled like a royal joker
Then walked down the road to play poker.
The man returned next morn,
His eyes ablaze with scorn.
His luck was bad last night.
His wallet thin and light.
From his pocket he drew a quarter,
Dropped it into the black, deep water.
Again, he asked for ways,
To end his gambling days.
A voice spoke out and said,
“Your gambling days are dead.”
He listened with disbelief,
Then sighed with great relief.
He looked into the well,
And shouted, “What the hell!”
Then with twitching cheek,
He added, “Wells don’t speak.”
The lucid voice replied,
“Your gambling ways just died.
Because you don’t believe me
I’ll prove to you my validity.”
The man walked past the poker game,
With a feeling of pride, not shame,
And ever since that fateful day,
The man has conquered his gambling way.
However, let me elucidate
About that voice of fate.
A well may be placid and deep,
But a well cannot speak.
Sure, the man was a fool.
That’s no reason to be cruel.
Above the well, in a tree,
That lucid voice came from me.
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