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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!