Robert W Service - The QuitterRobert W Service - The Quitter
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When you`re lost in the Wild, and you`re scared as a child,
And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you`re sore as a boil, it`s according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and . . . die.
But the Code of a Man says: "Fight all you can,"
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it`s easy to blow . . .
It`s the hell-served-for-breakfast that`s hard.
"You`re sick of the game!" Well, now, that`s a shame.
You`re young and you`re brave and you`re bright.
"You`ve had a raw deal!" I know — but don`t squeal,
Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.
It`s the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don`t be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it`s so easy to quit:
It`s the keeping-your-chin-up that`s hard.
It`s easy to cry that you`re beaten — and die;
It`s easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope`s out of sight —
Why, that`s the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try — it`s dead easy to die,
It`s the keeping-on-living that`s hard.
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