He fights where the fighting is thickest And keeps his high honor clean;From finish to start, he is sturdy of heart, Shunning the petty and mean;With his friends in their travail and sorrow, He is ever there to stand by,And hark to their plea, for they all know that he Is a regular sort of a guy.
He cheers up the sinner repentant And sets him again on his feet;He is there with a slap, and a pat on the back, For the lowliest bum on the street;He smiles when the going is hardest, With a spirit no money can buy;And take it from me, we all love him 'cause he Is a regular sort of a guy.
I don't care for the praise of the nations, Or a niche in the great hall of fame,Or that posterity should remember me When my dust and the dust are the same;But my soul will be glad if my friends say As they turn from my bier with a sigh"Though he left no great name, yet he played out the game Like a regular sort of a guy."
