How did you die ?
Did you tackle the trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful ?
Or hid your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful ?
Oh, a trouble´s a ton, or a trouble´s an ounce,
or a trouble is what you make it.
And it isn´t the fact that you´re hurt that counts,
But only, how did you take it ?
You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what´s that ?
Come up with a smiling face.
It´s nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there, that´s a disgrace.
The harder you´re thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye !
It isn´t the fact that you´re licked that counts,
It´s how did you fight and why ?
And though you be done to death, what then ?
If you battled the best you could;
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he´s slow or spry,
It isn´t the fact that you´re dead that counts,
but only, how did you die ?