To All The Sales Folks Who Worked Under Me
Gentlemen it was an honour to be on board,
Such rare and distinguished men are not made any more.
I was not a worthy leader, I was and am aware of my sores.
But each one of you were worthy leaders, let me tell you my folks.
I have never ever flinched, from leading you up front,
In true tradition, the bullet must first find my chest on the crux,
Never have I looked back, and never did I found you wanting,
Your dedication to my immense blackness was never a faltering.
Sons of great mothers you are, you rise from noble dust,
Not without a reason you worked for the eagle that soared upward.
I never lost a moment and I thank you for that,
To learn every single trick, you were champions and adept,
Amazed, awed, and humbled at your might prowess,
With tears hidden in the corner of my eyes,
I lead you with the greatest pride.
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(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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