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Poem	He used to say: There ain't a doubt Misfortune is a bitter pill, But if you only pry it out You'll find there's good in every ill. There's comfort in the worst of woe, There's consolation in defeat . . . Oh what a solace-seeker! So We called him Compensation Pete. He lost his wealth - but was he pipped? Why no - "That's fine," he used to say. "I've got the government plumb gypped - No more damn income tax to pay. From cares of property set free, And with no pesky social ties, Why, even poverty may be A benediction in disguise." He lost his health: "Okay," he said; "I'm getting on, may be the best. I've always loved to lie abed, And now I have the right to rest. Such heaps o' things I want to do, I'll have no time to fret or brood. I'll read the dam ol' Bible through: Guess it'll do me plenty good." He has that line of sunny shine That makes a blessing of a curse, And he would say: "Don't let's repine, Though things are bad they might be worse." And so he cherished to the end Philosophy so sane and sweet That everybody was his friend . . . With optimism hard to beat - God bless old Compensation Pete.
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