Rosie Raintree traveled around, with her husband in tow to pan for gold.
Great riches aplenty would surely be found, her fortune was read, it was foretold.

So camped they did and panned away, pyrite nuggets were all they found,
In many rivers, no real gold came to pass, but fools like them were all around.

Then one night Rosie awoke to find, her husband had up and snuck away.
In just a few miles south, Rosie knew, a small but wild mining town lay.
The only place for miles around, it's there she knew he would be bound.
So Rosie put her bonnet on, and climbed on up out of her camp bed,
she hitched her horse and wagon up, suspicion heavy in her head.
She searched every saloon in town, believe me there were quite a few,
'till just the last Cat House remained, he must be there, sweet Rosie knew.
For lately her affections true, on him were not so fast bestowed,
ill humor was to blame for this, as well the lack of finding gold.
Still if she found Jim (that's his name) paying for some feminine charms,
if she didn't shoot him first, she'd most likely break both his arms!

Long story short, she found Jim there, a woman lounging in his arms.
A sultry strumpet with long dark hair, and all the aforementioned charms.

"Now just a minute!" Wailed Jim "Rosie now don't be too damned rash!"
"This isn't how it seems you see, and honey look, I won some cash."

Rosie's blue eyes narrowed then, "With who's damn money did you bet,
to bank roll this liaison, Jim?" for certain, she was quite upset.

"Used our last few dollars." Jim replied "But won all of it back, times ten."
"And this here gal's my long lost sister, see, haven't seen her since God knows when."

Now Rosie's mother raised no fool, the frightened woman she let go,
but what she did to Jim that night, not sure you'd ever want to know.

Suffice it to say, Rosie left town, with lot's of extra cash in hand.
She packed up camp and went on her way, she now had a very different plan.
She knew Jim won with loaded dice, and cards he stuck way up his sleeve,
all that Jim knew about cheating, was taught to him by sweet Rosie.
That night she learned a lesson from poor dead Jim, one the Gypsies cards had not foretold. The quickest way to riches, friend, was not in panning streams for gold. Cheating at cards was the answer, how could she have been so daft? She always won the largest pot, while she daily honed her craft.

The moral of this story?
By now it should be clear.
Cheat on cards, but never women, and you'll have little to fear.