Again we have noticed some man with a pair of shop made shoes on, and as he strutted, and showed off, and swaggered around you, he was showing you his shop made shoes. It seemed too that he had forgotten that he was wearing secondhand goods, for evidently he had forgotten that the old Jersey cow had worn that hide for the last seven or eight years, and never for a single time showed the spirit of pride, but this man knocked her in the head and pulled her hide off and tanned it, and made himself a pair of shoes to cover up the bunions and corns on his toes, and now because his bare feet are covered with a cowhide he has got a bad case of the "swaggers," and as truly as "staggers" will kill a mule, the "swaggers" will kill a man. "Blind staggers" are no more fatal to a mule than "blind swaggers" are to a man. Again I have noticed ladies with an ostrich plume in their hat, and they wanted the eyes of the community to behold their beauty and grandeur and glory, and as they have stood before the mirror and beheld themselves, they seemed to think they had produced the feather, and behold, an old ostrich wore that feather all last year and never seemed to become proud or vain or to think that he himself was anything out of the ordinary. For an ostrich has got less sense than anything in the world, unless it is another creature that is trying to play the ostrich.
At other times we have seen a woman come into church with a silk dress on, and as she went down the aisle she wiggled and twisted exactly like a worm. She seemed to forget that the silkworm had been dressed in the silk before it ever reached her, but strange as it seems to think of, this woman has the appearance of a worm as she wiggles. No doubt her object is to show that she is wearing imported goods, but she forgets that the goods are, nevertheless, secondhand, and the human family seem to forget that the sheep wore the wool before the man, and the cow wore the hide before we got it, and the ostrich wore the plume before the woman put it on her head, and that the little worms made the silk before the woman ever wiggled down the aisle, cutting all the capers of a little innocent worm.
The reader will remember that when her pastor called on her to pray that morning, in her prayers in a choked, smothered voice, she told the Lord that she was a poor weak worm of the dust, but a few minutes ago she was trying to play the silkworm, all of which reveals the pride that is hid away in the heart of an unsanctified soul. Beloved, the wise man was right when he refers to pride as one of the great dangers of the human family, for it has often been said that "Pride is not a misfortune, but a disease."
Robinson, Reuben A. (Bud). The Collected Works of 'Uncle Bud' Robinson (Kindle Locations 2665-2691). Jawbone Digital. Kindle Edition.