He spins cooked wheel with crookèd hands, <br />close[d]) to true sum in sunny lands, <br />ring’d by a green baize world, he stands. <br /> <br />“Les jeux sonts faits…! ” he often calls, <br />wry, watches stakes increase till falls <br />Fate's rich ball, stalled, which naught recalls. <br /> <br />for previous version see below <br /> <br /> <br />The Eagle Eyed Croupier - Parody Alfred TENNYSON – The Eagle <br /> <br />He spins the wheel with crookèd hands, <br />close to the sum in sunny lands, <br />ring’d with a verdant world, he stands. <br /> <br />“Les jeux sonts faits…! ” he often calls, <br />he watches stakes mount up till falls <br />the ball of Fate which naught recalls. <br /> <br />17 December 1991<br /><br />Jonathan ROBIN<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-eagle-eyed-croupier-parody-alfred-tennyson-the-eagle/
