There’s a throw, my game—
I’m in awe if there’s 7.
Also if it came,
I’d be awed by 11.
My toss is strong. . .don’t tarry long.
I will crow, as will the throng. . .
Cheers if 7.

Cubes roll from my hand. . .
Pray to God it’s a 7.
Loaded bones are banned,
Ones that always show 7.
And so I pray that when they lay
On the table, they’re this way. . .
Peer at 7.

Dice can bring you down,
Dice can be crappy,
Dice can break your heart,
Snake eyes you should see
Or 12 see.

Above the floor
They’re keepin’ score;
Over camera views they pore,
Fearin’ 7.

So I throw; my game
Gives reward for a 7.
Also if it came,
A reward for 11.
My toss is strong; it carries wrong,
And I moan, as does the throng. . .
Geared for 7.

’cause the bones show 2—so wrong!
Tears. . .no 7.

I must go. . .blown dough. . .so long.
Here’s the exit.