Four cups, five dice a-rattle, then upend
The cup and sneak a glance at what’s beneath,
And hope those private faces don’t portend
An easy-to-guess lying through one’s teeth.
For bidding on the pips you don’t possess
Is risky, but an awful lot of fun,
For when the bid is called, whether success
Or failure is achieved relies on one
To play the odds, for one’s long-standing friends
Make every gamble seem beyond the pale,
So utilizing some unusual ends
Means hoping that with fortune you’ll prevail.
The dwindling cubes too often will conspire
With those who truly wish to call you liar.