(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'
