‘Twas the Morning After Powerball

Twas the morning after powerball and all through the land,

Not a creature was stirring, crushed tickets in hand;

The exotic trip pamphlets lay strewn on the floor,

The hopes of that trip dashed ever more;

My ‘I QUIT’ letter I saved in e-mail

Never to be sent, my numbers did fail;

Oh 16!  Oh 24!  Oh 33 and 47!

Oh 49 and what’s that?  11?

How could I have erred, my vision I blame,

Tis the morning after powerball, when’s the next game?

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