Bad Luck.
A little Brittany maid
Who never wore gowns of silk,
Sat down all alone
On a great round stone,
With a nice bowl of bread and milk.
A pert little magpie came,
His saucy respects to pay.
“Good luck!” cried the maid,
Not a bit afraid
“I shall have good luck all the day!”
Then ere she had ceased to laugh,
For she was a merry soul,
She looked again,
And saw very plain
Two magpies perched on her bowl!
The maiden began to cry
“Alas! and alack-a-day!
’Tis surely a sign
Bad luck will be mine!
Bad luck”!—and she ran away.