One day as Sir Jones was out walking
A bright golden gleam caught his eye
There in the grass
By the side of the path
A penny—heads up—he did spy

He rejoiced in his new-found good fortune
At finding this small good luck charm
As he bent to retrieve it
His foot slipped beneath him—
He fell, lightly bruising his arm

Looking 'round as he picked up his treasure
He frowned and stood upright with haste
It must be slow-working
He thought to himself
To allow such a thing to take place

With a shake of his head he continued
His walk down the small country road
When a lady in red
Made him turn round his head
And into a fencepost he strode

As he carried on limping and cursing
Sir Jones was becoming distraught
He began to suspect
That the penny's effect
Was opposite what he'd first thought

Angry he was, to have been such a fool
Engaging in wild superstition
(For one little penny
Just cannot have any
Effect on a sane man's condition)

Such were his thoughts, as he made his slow way
Toward home, with his mind in a haze
Looking down at his feet
He stepped into the street
Neglecting to first look both ways

The sound of an oncoming engine
Snapped him out of his dull introspection
With no time to think
On calamity's brink
He threw out his hands for protection

The penny flew out of his fingers
Hit the windshield, cracking the glass
The driver, unnerved
Grabbed the wheel and swerved
Missing Jones by an inch as he passed

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