From the Rock Island Argus, April 24, 1913. By S. E. Kiser. Sim Watson’s stock of wit was small, But he let on he knew it all; He held his head up mighty high; The word he spoke the most was “I;” He had a large amount of gall, And never let a chance go by Whenever he was in a crowd To make his conversation loud. You’d hear his voice above the rest He’d strut and he’d stick out his chest He never “guessed,” he always KNEW; Or, leastwise, he pretended to; He always seemed to worry lest He might be hidden from the view; When taller men than Sim were there You’d see him standin’ on a chair. We all knew his talk was guff, That he was puttin’ up a bluff, And yet, somehow, we kind of got To thinkin’ that he knew a lot; The jokes he told were old and tough— Most of them tales that we’d forgot— But still we’d laugh at what he said, And so his reputation spread. Well, as I see the case today, Sim taught a lesson, anyway; Your stock of knowledge may be small, But don’t stand back against the wall And listen to what others say. Speak up and claim to know it all; Most people will believe you do— The wiser ones are mighty few.