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Robert W Service - The Thinker
Work rating: Medium

Of all the men I ever knew
The thinkingest was Uncle Jim;
If there were any chores to do
We couldn`t figure much on him.
He`d have a thinking job on hand,
And on the rocking-chair he`d sit,
And think and think to beat the band,
And snap his galusus and spit.

We kids regarded him with awe -
His beard browned by tobacco stains,
His hayseed had of faded straw
The covered such a bunch of brains.
When some big problem claimed his mind
He`d wrestle with it for a fall;
But some solution he would find,
To be on hand for supper call.

A mute, inglorious Einstein he,
A rocking-chair philosopher;
I often wondered what, maybe,
His mighty meditations were.
No weighty work he left behind,
No words of wisdom or of wit;
Yet how I see him in my mind
Snap on his galusus and spit.
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