Dad caught me with a fag on once, I was in the bookies;

And took me for a pint or two though I was just a rookie

And offered up advice to me – it’s wisdom was immense,

“Consider, son, life’s not a Bitch – just 6/4 Against”.

Your toast falls always jam-side down and picks up fluff and grime;

You choose the slowest of two queues – it happens every time

Although it’s 50/50; it makes you so incensed

It always seems though that life’s odds are 6/4 Against.

Before the mighty Phillistines Goliath challenged all;

The Israelites were sore afraid behind their city wall;

But David took the challenge up, “I’ll wager 50 pence”

Then set his sling and backed himself at 6/4 Against.

When Henry fought at Agincourt, outnumbered ten to one

As Shakespeare notes his rhetoric played second string to none

But what he really meant to say, his knights and archers sensed,

Was “We could win a bob or two at 6/4 Against”.

So, yes life’s odds are stacked against – we take this on our chins

And in the long run you will lose; the bookie always wins;

In one regard, though, buck the trend if fortune should present

And back yourself every time at 6/4 Against.