Fortune is a fickle thing,
Fragile as a fairy’s wing.
Hard luck, maybe, waits for me
Round a corner I can’t see;
I can face it, dare and do,
With the good luck, dear, of you!
Say I love you, every way;
Say it many times a day;
Flash those lovely brown-hued eyes
My way, darling–you’re the prize
Life’s bestowed on lucky me
In her careless lottery!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 15, 1946
