A young man who wore flaming ties
Was loudly heard to say
He’d like to take a little rest,
But could not get away.
It seems he thought the busy firm
For which he was a clerk
Would only last the briefest time
If he should stop from work.
And yet, if ever he got fired
Some morning by the boss,
The people he says need him so
Would scarcely feel his loss.
The world is full of men like that
Whose self-inflation’s such
They think this world without their aid
Would not amount to much.