The Bad Fortune Teller Poem by Mary Champion

Cross my palm with silver,
let me see your lifeline.
What will that deliver?
What is in the pipeline?

Periods of plenty,
then I see a problem;
coffers will be empty,
you will hit rock bottom.

Now, your panic's rising,
wish you'd never asked me.
That is not surprising,
could've walked on past me

But you thought I'd forecast
happy ever after,
mega bucks at long last,
tall dark handsome stranger.

Oh dear! now your crying
cos your future's crappy,
but no way I'm lying
just to keep you happy.

Your hand's pointing to me,
why's it got a gun in?
Didn't have to shoot me -
never saw that coming!