Mr. Bradford is a noted speaker, writer, and business organization consultant.
Little Jack Horner sat in a corner,
Eating his Christmas pie;
He stuck in his thumb to pull out a plum
But instead of delighting his friends by reciting
"What a good boy am I,"
He let out a yelp and yammered for help.
His happiness perished—was banished;
For the pie that he cherished had vanished,
To float in the air like a brown-sugar moon,
Or a beckoning, orbiting pastry balloon.
And he knew with a start that the oversize tart
Was just an illusion. He never had spent
From out of his savings a single red cent
To pay for his pie; and now with his eye
Full of tears, he confronted his moment of truth—
Very painful indeed for so tender a youth,
And painfuller still for his fully-grown brother,
His uncle and aunt, and his father and mother—
That nothing is free; what you get you must buy;
That no one gets fat, however he try,
Or even comes nigh it, who limits his diet
To pie…. in the sky!