by Robert Service

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 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 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 grueling bout,

All broken and beaten and scarred,

Just have one more try - it's dead easy to die;