Superstition Poem by Rubab Meraj

A man named Rochester,
Was famous in Manchester,
He even had a charming daughter,
And one day her mother caught her,
Holding a nasty weed,
Her mother asked, 'why do you need,
This completely disgusting thing? '
'Oh mother! ' she began to sing,
'It's thought good luck in Asia,
I'm sorry I didn't tell ya! '
Hold a weed everyday and good luck comes to you,
What a funny fact, my dear Lucie knew!
It never worked in Lucie's life,
So one day she just grabbed a knife,
And chopped the weeds off clean!
Such absurdness I've never seen!
Or heard of in eight years,
Still dumb Lucie feared fears,
That bad luck was quite close,
Something dreadful, who knows?
So before this should ever happen,
She had ideas, i'm sure you've never thought 'em,
For dear Lucie did commit suicide,
They we're so sad their daughter died,
See, Lucie had high dreams and ambitions,
But because I talked of superstitions,
I forgot to mention Mr. Rochester,
The forgotten man of Manchester!