Southern Gothic​

Well Daddy didn’t teach me much
Except to not fall for the same trick twice,
And Mamma used to always say
The good Lord don’t roll no dice.

I suppose that means
He’s not a gambling man,
But I’m not quite sure
Of how that pertains
Cause what’s the big man got to gain?

Well Daddy didn’t teach me much
Expect how to play a mean round of pool,
And how to eye the crowd
To tell a player from a fool.

Daddy liked to play the odds.
Would put a Jackson and a Jameson
Atop the pool table,
And butter up some poor sap
With words as sweet as maple.

After Daddy would win
He’d throw back the Jameson,
And ask if they’d want to rack again.
Either way, He’d order another whiskey on ice,
And the whole time I’d just think
Of how the good Lord don’t roll no dice.

I guess that means
Daddy’s not much of a godly man,
And I’d often wonder
How that fit into the Lord’s plan.

Well once I told Momma
I didn’t much comprehend
How come God made us this way
And still punish us for sin?
She just shook her head,
Stared at me a moment, and said
Boy, the devil does what you ask of him
But that don’t make him a friend.