When the pitiless gong rings out again, and they whip your chair away,
When you feel you'd like to take the floor, whatever the crowd should say,
When the hammering gloves come back again, and the world goes round your head,
When you know your arms are only wax, your hands of useless lead,
When you feel you'd give your heart and soul for a chance to clinch and rest,
And through your brain the whisper comes,
“Give in, you've done your best,” —
Why, stiffen your knees and brace your back, and take my word as true —
If the man in front has got you weak, he's just as tired as you.
He can n't attack through a gruelling fight and finish as he began;
He's done more work than you to-day — you're just as fine a man.
So call your last reserve of pluck — he's careless with his chin —
You'll put it across him every time — Go in — Go in — Go in!