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Tratsch: schlechtes Klopfen

wer schlecht Klopft hat eindeutig bessere Chancen auf die 2te Hand ein gutes Blatt zu bekommen!

Wer zuviele Spiele zerbröselt bekommt am Ende nix vom großen Kuchen.

Tasch richtig. Wenn man schon 4 laufende hat, kommen selten noch welche dazu. Meist nur noch Spatzen.

)
-)
;-)

You went away and left me for Mr. Clark Gable
Now your back knocking on my table
I hear you knocking
But you can't really win
I hear you knocking
Go back where you been

I begged you just to go and you said goodbye
Now it's your knocking that makes me cry
I hear you knocking
But you can't really win
I hear you knocking
Go back where you been

You better get back to your used to be
'Cause your kind of knocking ain't good for me
I hear you knocking
And I just can't win
I hear you knocking
Go back where you been

I told you way back in '52
That I would never knock with you
I hear you knocking
But we both can't win
I hear you knocking
Go back where you been

;-)
-)
)

we skipped the light fandango ....

Turned cartwheels 'cross the floor ...

I was feeling kinda seasick

But the crowd called out for more

The room was humming harder

As the ceiling flew away

When we called out for another drink
the waiter brought a tray

And so it was that later
As the miller told his tale
That her face, at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale

She said, 'There is no reason

And the truth is plain to see."

But I wandered through my playing cards
and would not let her be

One of sixteen vestal virgins
Who were leaving for the coast

and although my eyes were open
they might have just as well've been closed

And so it was that later
As the miller told his tale
That her face, at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale

She said, 'I'm home on shore leave,'
though in truth we were at sea

I pointed out this detail
And forced her to agree,

saying, 'You must be the mermaid
who took Neptune for a ride.'

And she smiled at me so sweetly
That my anger straightway died.

And so it was that later
as the miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly,
turned a whiter shade of pale

If music be the food of love
Then laughter is it's queen

and likewise if behind is in front
then dirt in truth is clean