The Fighter

I have not won the fight for fame,

      Nor won the fight for gold;

The battlefield is strewn with men,

      And I am growing old.

I shoulder arms day after day,

      I’m ambushed, stung and tricked;

I have not won the fight, but say,

      Thank God I am not licked!

So when the morrow’s call to arms

      Comes sounding o’er the plain,

I’ll rouse me, get my fighting traps

      And tackle it again.

c. Sept. 1, 1913