I complained because I had no shoes
And I was really singing the blues.
About that time I happened to meet
A poor old guy who had no feet.
He said, 'Come on Bro, trade places with me.'
I said, 'No way, Jose', but it made me see
My problems weren't quite as bad as they seem
-And then I woke up from my dream.
And I was thankful all that day
For all the good that came my way.
The grass next door isn't always greener
Sometimes their situation is so much meaner.
So, like they say, be careful what you wish,
You might be served a very different dish.
Best to let things wend along their own way
And just sit back and watch the play
Than try to interfere too much with fate
And the clockwork of heaven to lubricate.
Some call it karma, kismet, or fate.
It's what awaits at that final gate.
What will be, will be, it's easy to see
I'll just call it man's des-ti-nee.
George Hunter's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Fate by George Hunter )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
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