The Secret of Success

A funny poem by Nixon Waterman but one that holds the secret of success in it. You may smile as you read the verses but by the time you get to the end of the poem, you will realize the words truly do hold a secret.

If you want to be successful then follow the advice in this poem and you will be one step closer to achieving your goals!

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The Secret of Success
Poet: Nixon Waterman


One day in huckleberry time, when little Johnny Flails
And half a dozen other boys were starting with their pails
To gather berries, Johnny's pa, in talking with him, said
That he could tell him how to pick so he'd come out ahead.

"First find your bush," said Johnny's pa, "and then stick to it till
You've picked it clean. Let those go chasing all about who will
In search of better bushes, but it's picking tells, my son.
To look at fifty bushes doesn't count like picking one."

And Johnny did as he was told, and sure enough he found
By sticking to his bush while all the others chased around
In search of better picking, 'twas as his father said;
For while the others looked he worked, and so came out ahead.

And Johnny recollected this when he became a man.
And first of all he laid him out a well-determined plan.
So while the brilliant triflers failed with all their brains and push.
Wise steady-going Johnny won by "sticking to his bush."

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Another funny but true poem that holds another key to success by Nixon Waterman:

The Procrastinationist
Poet: Nixon Waterman


There used to be a feller who
'U'd sit an' tell what he 'u'd do.
He'd show 'em how to make a hit
When wunst he got aroun' to it.
An' he was smart No one 'u'd doubt
He knowed what he was talkin' 'bout;
It seemed jes's if he'd clearly planned
Success, ner missed a "if er ''and."

He said he'd write a book in which
'Twas certain he 'u'd strike it rich.
He'd outlined lots o' plays 'at he
'U'd bet 'at folks 'u'd flock to see.
He had a lectur' on the string
He knowed 'u'd draw like everything;
An' lots o' schemes to bring him gold,
More 'an a circus tent 'u'd hold.

I 've heerd that feller sit an' spin
His plans fer scoopin' up the tin
Until down in my bones I felt
He'd surely die a Vanderbilt.
When wunst he got right down to biz,
I knowed the earth 'u'd soon be his.
An' when he asked me, now an' nen,
I let him have a "five" er "ten."

The years went on, as years'll do.
An' he kep' on a-talkin', too,
Till in the potter's field one day
They laid this man o' words away,
An' writ upon a slab above
That soul'at allers seemed to love
To chin an' chin an' chin an' chin,
''Here lies a man who might 'a' been."



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