Friday the 13th
by Gregg Metcalf
by Gregg Metcalf
Lo, and behold I turned the calendar page
while staring up at I and making me age
was the day and date that many do fear
Friday the thirteenth once more was here
Friggatriskaidekaphobia is the real name
of this culprit which receives the blame
For mishaps, accidents, and problems galore
and anything else you can name or explore
Do you know before the nineteenth century?
There was never a mention of this misery
It wasn’t until Gioachino Rossini did expire
on Friday the thirteenth raised any ire
Rossini was surrounded at the very last
by admiring friends who watched him pass
but was Friday really such an unlucky day?
Is thirteen an unlucky number, who’s to say?
Twelve apostles, twelve numbers on the clock
Twelve gods on Mount Olympus’s huge rock
command many to say, twelve tis enough
thirteen is too much for any kind of stuff
What do you think about this day so foul?
Will you mark it with a shout or a howl?
Do you fear so simple a number?
Or at its very notion do you slumber?
For me, it is all silly balderdash
coughs, colds, fevers, or red rash
may come your way with great pain
blaming a number is really insane
Believers place their trust in our Lord
they cling to the promises in his Word
they place no faith in things superstitious
or things that one might call suspicious
Bad luck, good luck, they do not exist
take courage, cowboy up and resist
the notion that any day of the week
would give you reason to fear or freak
Black cats broken mirrors and such things
like walking under a ladder in the spring
bothers me naught, for I have no fear
when Friday the thirteenth is here