The Quitter by Robert W. Service

The Quitter

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 battered and scarred,
Just have one more try — it’s dead easy to die,

It’s the keeping-on-living that’s hard.

Rhymes of a Rolling Stones. Robert W. Service. Toronto: William Briggs, 1912; New York: Dodd Mead, 1912; London: Fisher Unwin, 1913.

© 1871-2023 Grand Lodge of British Columbia and Yukon A.F. & A. M. Updated: 2002/04/02
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