If I could just turn back the clock
What real estate I’d have in stock!
But I could never make a deal
Nothing showed to me had appeal.
Lousy areas offered by the hour
Good for nothing â€“ (but the Hancock tower)!
Brokers advised â€“ this land will be great.
I passed it up â€“ now it’s Route 8!
Buy in Santee? â€“ I don’t like the “sticks”
No future there â€“ I’ll be in a helluva fix
I’ll do just fine if I go slow and let the time tick.
D’ya know I could have owned Route 56!
Well maybe I do have special yearnings
I want to buy less than six times earnings
Other buyers were just stupid guys
They now hold deeds to a lush high-rise
I frown at stuff I’ve seen before
Don’t understand whyÂ now itÂ costs more
I take no stock in a high growth rate
I’ll just sit tight and procrastinate!
So I keep looking with a negative view
And nothing I see will ever do
My buying power gets ever smaller
As I lose pace with the inflated dollar!
(His epitaph will read I’ll bet
“He hasn’t seen a good deal yet.
Played the role of a real slow-poker
May be missed â€“ but not by his broker!”)
Point of the poem is if you wait until the perfect opportunity you’ll never make any real opportunities.
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