How Did You Die
By Edmund Vance Cooke
Did you tackle the trouble that came your way with a resolute heart and cheerful? Or hide your face from the light of day With a craven soul of fearful? Oh, a trouble's a ton, or troubles an ounce, or trouble is what you make of it, are you beating to the earth? Well, well, what's that? Come up with that smiling face. It's nothing against you to fall down flat, But to lie there -- that's disgrace. The harder your thrown, why the higher you bounce; be proud of your black eye! It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts, It's how you fight -- and why. And though you be done to the 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 whatever he's slow or spry, it isn't the fact that you're dead that counts, But how did you die.
By Edmund Vance Cooke
Did you tackle the trouble that came your way with a resolute heart and cheerful? Or hide your face from the light of day With a craven soul of fearful? Oh, a trouble's a ton, or troubles an ounce, or trouble is what you make of it, are you beating to the earth? Well, well, what's that? Come up with that smiling face. It's nothing against you to fall down flat, But to lie there -- that's disgrace. The harder your thrown, why the higher you bounce; be proud of your black eye! It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts, It's how you fight -- and why. And though you be done to the 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 whatever he's slow or spry, it isn't the fact that you're dead that counts, But how did you die.
How Did You Die
By Edmund Vance Cooke
Did you tackle the trouble that came your way with a resolute heart and cheerful? Or hide your face from the light of day With a craven soul of fearful? Oh, a trouble's a ton, or troubles an ounce, or trouble is what you make of it, are you beating to the earth? Well, well, what's that? Come up with that smiling face. It's nothing against you to fall down flat, But to lie there -- that's disgrace. The harder your thrown, why the higher you bounce; be proud of your black eye! It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts, It's how you fight -- and why. And though you be done to the 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 whatever he's slow or spry, it isn't the fact that you're dead that counts, But how did you die.
By Edmund Vance Cooke
Did you tackle the trouble that came your way with a resolute heart and cheerful? Or hide your face from the light of day With a craven soul of fearful? Oh, a trouble's a ton, or troubles an ounce, or trouble is what you make of it, are you beating to the earth? Well, well, what's that? Come up with that smiling face. It's nothing against you to fall down flat, But to lie there -- that's disgrace. The harder your thrown, why the higher you bounce; be proud of your black eye! It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts, It's how you fight -- and why. And though you be done to the 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 whatever he's slow or spry, it isn't the fact that you're dead that counts, But how did you die.
