Classic Poem

A curse on cards, a curse on dice,
A curse on gaming, cursed vice!
It wastes our time, it wastes our wealth,
And is the modish way of stealth.

Where gaming spreads its fatal gloom,
There mirth and music flee the room,
And rage and discord take their place,
And falsehood fleers in ev'ry face.

In pleasures men may be profuse,
And for each failing find excuse,
But gaming has no other end
But ruin of yourself or friend.