& many four-leafed clovers too
I'd put a dream-catcher by my bed
& snapped wishbones well in two
but all too soon my luck ran out
Yeah, one Friday the 13th
a black cat started stalking me,
& I'd opened an umbrella indoors,
& I'd walked under ladders carelessly
but bad luck can still run out
I'll hang horseshoes ends down,
maybe change my initials to C.C.,
get a Raven for a pet perhaps,
& ask a Quija what it can see
though all this luck will still run out
Yeah, I've tired of the mirror
& I've bashed its' glassy face
I've run over my own & others' graves
& spilled salt all over the place
but I'm sure my luck's not out
'Cause there's rainbow when it rains
& shooting stars keep night skies lit
& Ireland is lucky despite the British reign
for a pot of gold remains in every crock of...
well I'm sure I'll still luck out
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