SUPERSTITIONS.
A POEM BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©
Don’t walk under ladders
As far as you’re able
Whatever you do, keep
New shoes off the table
Spilled salt from the shaker
Goes over the shoulder
Saluting the magpie
Assures growing older
Don’t open umbrellas
While still in the house
It’s unlucky for you and
Could be for your spouse
Don’t hang a horse-shoe
With ends pointing down
The luck will run out
And you’ll look like a clown
Black cat on the road?
Hurry out of its way
And don’t say ‘good luck’
To a friend in a play
When you’re inside the theatre;
It’s rotten bad luck
Let’s hope when the chandelier
Falls, they can duck
You do have to live, though,
And not in a bubble
But, whatever you do, don’t
Set eyes on your double
Be third on a match
See the Number Thirteen
Or a looking-glass break
‘Cause your end won’t be clean
When rejoicing with friends
At the Christening feast
Check the scalp of the child for
The Sign of the Beast
Three small Number Sixes
There, under the hair
But it’s best for mankind if
You don’t find it there
Don’t kill a ladybug
Under your nose
And pretend not to notice
That murder of crows
You’re best to do nothing
Considered bad luck
Though that leaves doing nothing;
Goodnight and good luck!
sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris 