WHEN you drink of what the poets rave about as sorrers cup,
And yer mouth, in spite of laughin, gits a curve the wrong way up,
Do not whine for help or pity; never cringe at fortunes frown
Lay yer listners back and fight until you fight yer sorrers down!
Though the world on empty pockets is at times a little harsh
And the weights of care are clinging to the ends of your mustarsh,
Never let yer grief boil over; it is nothing to the town
Lay yer listners back and battle till you fight yer sorres down!
When the law of gravitation lays a hand upon yer heart,
An the slings an arrers fetch yer and you feel em pretty smart,
When you cannot find a billet, and you havent half-a-crown
Lay yer listners hack and fight until you fight yer sorrers down!
When the gilt upon the future wears in places very thin,
Look as if theres nothink crooked, try an summon up a grin;
Theres a mask that you must always wear the other way about
Lay yer listners back and battle till you knock yer sorrers out.
