I know a man named Murphy,
with a nature quite perverse,
who always seems to show up
on the road from bad to worse.
We first met in the Army,
pinned down, my straits grown dire.
Dear Murph arrived to spray me
with accurate friendly fire.
Murph will often show his face
when my car runs out of fuel,
to make sure that I'm out of cash
and running late, as a rule.
So, I guessed he'd pay a visit
when I won the lotto draw.
Sure enough, I lost my ticket
somewhere in Murphy's Law.
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