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.