It tells a story, the grip of such men
You can give it a mark from one up to ten
The flaccid none particular of whom you might as well forget
From the strong and sturdy and pleased to meet you, much more of a safe bet
For a hand with five fingers that has no strength will hold up no life long wills
It will crumble and fail at the first sign on danger, never willing to foot the bills
But a rigorous grasp with a smile and heartily clasp is a better hand to follow
Not a weak and wet lettuce, whose hand felt like a cretins, mostly hiding in the shadows
As life can often take us on a path led by utter dimwits
But choose a journey not laid out by those who you just don't seem fit.

JJB