Damfino Jones, a mental drone,
Had no opinion of his own;
He grew to manhood meek and mild,
But he was Indecision's child,
It was the same in weal or woe:
He "wasn't sure," or "didn't know."
In business he would hesitate
To buy or sell until too late;
So, naturally he ran in debt—
But hasn't run back out as yet.
When asked when he a debt would pay
He "couldn't just exactly say."
In romance he just "couldn't just exactly say."
If he loved Blanche or Isabel—
He married Jane, and, safe to say,
'Twas she who kept the wolf at bay.
And with religion, mixed he got
When asked if orthodox or not.
In politics he'd weigh and weigh,
And then not vote on 'lection day.
And so he wavered till he died
And never did one thing decide.
Now I don't know, but it is said
He isn't now quite sure he's dead.
Take note of men who've made success:
They tell you "No" or tell you "Yes"
Right off the bat, nor step aside
When faced with questions to decide;
While men like Jones just paw the air
And never do get anywhere.
This truth shines out like bright new tin:
Think for yourself if you would win.