My Unlucky Streak

By Jim Hagarty

I’ve never found a four-leaf clover.
My daughter has found many.
She has lots of Irish luck.
Poor me, I don’t have any.

If daughter buys a ticket,
We know she’s going to win.
If I bought tickets, all but one,
I’m sure I’d lose again.

If we are at a function
And they draw for some prize,
My daughter is the winner.
The cheers drown out my sighs.

Some day I’ll find that clover
No matter what I do.
Even if the extra leaf
Comes attached with glue.

Cause I am sick of waiting
For my lucky streak to start.
If I never find my clover,
The pain will break my heart.

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.