From the Rock Island Argus, April 27, 1914. By Henry Howland.
Some people say it wasn’t luck that made ‘em rich and proud;
They claim ’twas wisdom, work and pluck that raised ‘em from the crowd.
I don’t deny that there’s a pile of truth in what they say,
And yit it always makes me smile to hear ‘em talk that way.
Fer instance, there was Henry Wood—taught school here years ago;
His teachin’ wasn’t any good—we had to tell him so;
He tried to get another school, but couldn’t anywhere;
Directors thought he was a fool and said so plain and fair.
So havin’ nothin’ else to do, he wrote a silly book or two;
Most mushy stuff I ever read, but I have lately heard it said
That Henry was a millionaire.
And there was John Tate’s oldest son, a lazy, worthless chap;
When there was hard work to be done he never helped his pap;
The old man drove him off at last—just told him plain and flat
That all the monkeyin’ was past—what happened after that?
They say he’s saltin’ money down and keeps six servants up in town;
He sells some kind of medicine he guarantees to keep ‘em thin
When women think they’re gettin’ fat.
Take them two fellers—was it pluck with which they were endowed?
Or was it just a bit of luck that made ‘em rich and proud?
Take notice, that I don’t deny that work and wisdom win,
But when you say that ends it, why—excuse me if I grin.
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