There was once a young man quite erratic Who lived all alone in an attic, He wrote magazine verse That made editors curse, But his friends thought it fine and dramatic.
I hate the fellow who sits around And knocks the livelong day-- Who tells of the work he might have done; If things had come his way. But I love the fellow who pushes ahead...
Have you ever mused in silence upon a summer's day And let your thoughts run riot and your feelings have full sway, As you sprawled full length upon the grass in some secluded dell...
O a fat turkey gobbler once sat on a limb And he sighed at the wind, and the wind sighed at him. But the grief of the gobbler one could not diminish, For it was Thanksgiving and he saw his finish....