Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story (2017)

MY PHILOSOFY
BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY





I ain't, ner don't p'tend to be,

Much posted on philosofy;

But thare is times, when all alone,

I work out idees of my own.

And of these same thare is a few

I'd like to jest refer to you--

Pervidin' that you don't object

To listen clos't and rickollect.



I allus argy that a man

Who does about the best he can

Is plenty good enugh to suit

This lower mundane institute--

No matter ef his daily walk

Is subject fer his neghbor's talk,

And critic-minds of ev'ry whim

Jest all git up and go fer him!



I knowed a feller onc't that had

The yeller-janders mighty bad,--

And each and ev'ry friend he'd meet

Would stop and give him some receet

Fer cuorin' of 'em. But he'd say

He kindo' thought they'd go away

Without no medicin', and boast

That he'd git well without one doste.



He kep' a-yellerin' on--and they

Perdictin' that he'd die some day

Before he knowed it! Tuck his bed,

The feller did, and lost his head,

And wundered in his mind a spell--

Then rallied, and, at last, got well;

But ev'ry friend that said he'd die

Went back on him eternally!



Its natchurl enugh, I guess,

When some gits more and some gits less,

Fer them-uns on the slimmest side

To claim it ain't a fare divide;

And I've knowed some to lay and wait,

And git up soon, and set up late,

To ketch some feller they could hate

Fer goin' at a faster gait.



The signs is bad when folks commence

A-findin' fault with Providence,

And balkin' 'cause the earth don't shake

At ev'ry prancin' step they take.

No man is grate tel he can see

How less than little he would be

Ef stripped to self, and stark and bare

He hung his sign out anywhare.



My doctern is to lay aside

Contensions, and be satisfied:

Jest do your best, and praise er blame

That follers that, counts jest the same.

I've allus noticed grate success

Is mixed with troubles, more er less,

And it's the man who does the best

That gits more kicks than all the rest.