The Lottery I Poem by Bryan Nichols

I cut the paper up with care
Every piece an even square
And numbered one to forty-nine
Then folded them all neat and fine My fingers trembled with excitement
As I placed the numbered parchment
Into a bag all deep and wide
Through which my nimble hand would slide I shook them up with frenzied glee
Then drew them out so carefully
One by one until the sixth
They were indeed the oddest mix I waited patiently to win
But my chances were so thin
As months passed by without a penny
And anxious moments were so many I tossed and turned at night with dread
And almost tumbled out of bed
As nightmares haunted me with gloom
And numbers chased me round the room Figures danced before my eyes
As hopes were dashed with groans and sighs
'Twas evil misery so rare
A life of torment and despair But then to church I went one day
And saw the numbers on display
The hymns and psalms were all marked up
And looked as though they'd bring me luck Whilst organ played and church bells rang
My voice with dedication sang
Oh, naughty numbers do not hide
But let ye in my head reside
Reveal yourselves all fancy free
And let me win the lottery