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Francie Lynch Mar 2017
Breaking a mirror won't bring financial ruin,
Unless you keep breaking them.

Carrying a rabbit's foot is just weird.
Ask the rabbit.

If you walk under a ladder,
You're ringing the wrong rung.
Enrol in a Health and Safety seminar.

If a black cat crosses the path of your vehicle,
Swerve,
You might clip it.

Pulling wishbones.... see Rabbit's Foot.

Bad news comes in threes,
And fours, fives...

You can bang on my wood anytime.

Lucky pennies don't exist in Canada.

Spilling salt is safe, and cheap.
If the price increased 1000%,
We'd still buy and spill.

Wishing on stars, candles and such
Is like holding air in your hands.

If you find a four-leaf clover,
Use EPA approved **** killer.

Don't step on a crack,
Don't sell crack,
Don't smoke crack.

Good Luck!
There are no pennies at all in Canada. Done away with and for good reasons. We all know $9.99 is $10.00. Well in Canada, so is $9.98 and $9.97. We have advanced math here. $9.96 is now $9.95, but so is $9.94 and $9.93. You can figure out the pattern. It works well, and we save millions at the mint, and the tailor's.
Francie Lynch Mar 2017
Hawthorn hedgerows separated their fields.
Alice often found Towser lapping
From Jim's cupped hand,
At his hill well.
Her brothers fished Jim's salmon-rich creek.
To get her animal she walked through the bushes,
Drank his water.
They decided to wed.
He poured a new kitchen floor;
Chickens and sows,
Sons and daughters arrived,
Through famine and taxes
They prospered, survived.

Over the evening pint,
The lads grumbled about the Travellers
Camped off the road to Jim's.
     They're gypsies, spilled Jim,
     No different than him, pointing to Frank, beneath a tin:
                                   Guinness is good for you.
     I passed them at tea, they were eating my fish.
     I nodded Okay, and they sang, "Make a wish!
"

How comes it to pass,
Is anyone's guess.

Jim left walking for home,
A dark journey, alone.
The night sky was clear,
Jim loved the fresh air.
In his line he saw
The gypsy's red fire.
He was offered a drink,
Being a purveyor of craic,
The stars glided eastward,
Alice watched them that night,
Waiting for Jim to come back.

He rose with a scratch,
And a Guiness-stained yawn,
And the smell of a smokey,
Fire-haired woman.

For seventeen years no words were spoken,
Alice was redolent,
The holy of holies lay open,
The body's been stolen.
In the stillness of night,
Alone in her bed,
Jim lay beside her;
Her man was dead.

One fish, one wish,
And all was unsaid,
An unspeakable silence
Envelope the dead.

A wish is a fish,
Alive in deep water;
If you hook it, release it,
It'll swim to another.

Jim died alone
In his house, not his home;
His wish transpired
By fish and his fire.
Francie Lynch Mar 2017
The near half moon,
Low in the eastern sky,
Like a god-given teardrop,
For we who can't cry.
It sits on the cheek
Of a darkening light;
A tear such as this
Is cold comfort at night.
Francie Lynch Mar 2017
Intro:         C      G7        C       G7         E7           D7          G7
   C                      G7
Shine away your bluesies,
   C                                                         G7
Why don't you shine, start with your shoesies;
   E7                           Am7                       C7
Shine each place up, make it look like new,
   D7                                           G7
Shine your face up, I want to see you wear a smile or two.

      C                             G7
Cause my skin's light creamy,
       C                                    G7
Just because my eyes are greeny;
     E7                 Am7                          C7
Just because I lack some shade of brown,
    D7                                                  F7­
Don't stop me from funking down when I funk uptown... Funk!

C                       G7
Cause I dig rap music,
E7                               Am7                C7
With jazz and blues I boogie all the time;
  F                                 Cdim
Just because I jive to Reggae,
  C                          A7        D7            G7
T­hat's the reason, Baby, why they call me...

C                                 G7
*****,  watches ice hockey,
  C                            G7
******, he likes to copy.
  E7                          Am7                          ­C7
I'm Caucasian, the abbreviation won't do,
D7                              G7
Drop the name tags, see me the way you want me seeing you.

   C                               G7
Why don't you shine, your these and thoseies,
   E7                                            Am7       C7
You'll find everything's gonna turn out fine;

  F                            Cdim.    C
Folks will shine up to ya, everybody's
                                       A7
gonna howdy-doody do ya;
  D7                     G7                C
You'll make the whole world shine.

      C                                            G7
So,­ clap your hands, shout Hallelujah,
     E7                             Am7                   C7
You'll find everyone's much the same inside;
    F                      Cdim
You know we all share blame,
C                                                         ­           A7
Don't “Howdy-doody Whitey” cause that ain't my name,
D7                           G7                 C
And we'll turn the world colour blind.
"Shine" is an old Louis Armstrong song. I used two of the original verses, and added several of my own, and re-named it, "Shine On."
This is an edit and repost. The chords are for the uke, but should work on any instrument. This song is anti-racist, anti-prejudice, and anti-bigotry.
Francie Lynch Mar 2017
Winds these days
Cut both ways,
As spring is fast arriving.
These gasping blasts
Can't repel what's thriving,
The give and take of time.

This snowy, sleety, wet, cold season
Brought flues, agues, chilblains and sneezing,
And holidays with families,
Births, deaths,
And another year,
The passing of those times,
Pics, grams and friends with wine,
The games, tricks, sighs and smiles
Of another season of our lives,
And the memories
We didn't pose for.
Francie Lynch Feb 2017
We're squeezed in a topsy-turvy
*****-ball world;
What's upside is down,
What's inside is out;
Your smile's a frown,
Your whisper's a shout,
And the flim-flam man
Just pitched a curve.
We're headed to second
After rounding third,
And first is stolen;
This game's absurd.
So, I gather up my bat and ball,
I've read the writing on the wall,
I've turned, running for home.
We've been tagged on bad calls.
We were safe, but now we're out,
Exiled, banished, conflicted, confused,
There's nothing good on the news.
The umps and refs have all been turned,
We've been benched,
We've been spurned.
Behind me,
Someone calls out,
     *Play Ball;
Francie Lynch Feb 2017
She's a thoroughly modern Maura;
To know her's to adore her.
She brought Christmas home,
Made special days our own,
Setting aside her own wish-bones,
So we were well-looked after.

(yes, she explained to me
the import of hygiene:
you gotta remember,
we were pretty green
when we first landed on the scene)

And,
From this point on,
We were good on our own.

Yes, I love all my sisters and brothers,
But in my highest esteem,
My Maura tops all others.
Maura:  Actually, Mary Alice, but that was only on the B.C.
She's the oldest of the eleven sibs. I'm the seventh.
She was/is the best. Seventy-one years and raising a pint for many more to come.
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