Right before I went on stage,

My mother told me, "Break a leg!"

Was she joking? Or was she for real?

By the tone of her voice, I just couldn't tell.

And what do you mean, my dear sweet mother?

Should I break my own leg—or that of another?

And how should I do it? Should I push? Should I kick?

Should I wait 'til the end—or do it real quick?

As I danced and tried to decide,

The edge of the stage escaped my eye.

As I fell, one thought filled my mind:

"My dear sweet mother is not very kind."

She got her wish—I did break a leg!

Of the table I hit as I fell off the stage.