(lyrics by Jim Crichton)

Aldo's standing at his table

And he's wondering if he's able

To pick the number right this time

He watches as the wheel stops spinning

Sees the number that is winning

As he reaches for his glass of wine

Once he starts it's hard to stop

He's keepin' up a pace like a tight wound clock

Be sure you don't step in his way

He'll keep those numbers rolling

This may be his last day

As all the bets are taken

Aldo lights a smoke, he's shakin'