The table wasn't breaking for the Vegas crowd that night, The house was up 12 thousand, with no change of luck in sight; So, when Epstein came up snake-eyes and Spinelli missed his point, A mood of deep depression could be felt throughout the joint.
The dollar-bettors, cleaned of cash, were heading for the door, But all the big high-rollers stayed to even up the score; They said: "If only Casey had a chance to roll the dice, We'd have a chance to change our luck, which now is cold as ice."
Then, suddenly, their eyes lit up, a cry rose from their lips, It echoed off the slot machines, it rattled off the chips; It rumbled through the Black Jack games as cards were being dealt, For Casey, lucky Casey, was advancing to the felt!
His nails were cleanly manicured, his face was richly tanned, His suit was iridescent silk that cost him half a grand; The cuff-links on his sheer batiste were rubies from afar, Between his teeth he cooly smoked a ninety-cent cigar!
There was ease in Casey's manner as he calmly placed his bet, His hands were steady as a rock, his palms were free of sweat; The other shooters, now revived, together had one goal, To place each C-note they had left on Casey and his roll!
With confidence and quiet pride he gripped the cubes of white, Then, blowing on them softly, he prepared them for their flight; "A seven, dice," he murmured, as he looked up to the sky, And a hush went 'round the table as he raised his arm on high!
The cool is drained from Casey's face, his eyes are tense and keen And all along his sun-drenched brow deep furrows can be seen; And now he firmly hold the dice, and now he lets them go, And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's throw!
Oh, somewhere in this wealthy land there is a happy spot, Where naturals are being rolled, and dice are running hot; And somewhere men are doubling up and winners scream and shout, But there is no joy in Vegas -- Lucky Casey has crapped out!