by
If you can laugh at mags when all about you
Are cussing them till the air is blue;
If you can trust yourself when all fans doubt you
(Despite the fact that you are doubting too);
If you can bear to see the things you’ve written
Twisted by some to make you seem a fool;
If you can read a novel at one sittin’ ,
Not sicken at the ‘slimy ones that drool’;
If you can talk to fans and keep your right mind,
And write to Eds, nor lose the common touch;
If you can tell the bad yarns from the good kind,
And study scientific things and such;
If you can fill the unrelenting fan mags
With twenty pages worth of writing done;
You’ll show the critics up as only windbags,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Fan, my son!
