WHEN you drink of what the poets rave about as “sorrer’s cup”, <br />And yer mouth, in spite of laughin’, gits a curve the wrong way up, <br />Do not whine for help or pity; never cringe at fortunes frown— <br />Lay yer list’ners back and fight until you fight yer sorrers down! <br /> <br />Though the world on empty pockets is at times a little harsh <br />And the weights of care are clinging to the ends of your mustarsh, <br />Never let yer grief boil over; it is nothing to the town— <br />Lay yer list‘ners back and battle till you fight yer sorres down! <br /> <br />When the law of gravitation lays a hand upon yer heart, <br />An’ the “slings an’ arrers” fetch yer and you feel ’em pretty smart, <br />When you cannot find a billet, and you haven’t half-a-crown— <br />Lay yer list’ners hack and fight until you fight yer sorrers down! <br /> <br />When the gilt upon the future wears in places very thin, <br />Look as if there’s nothink crooked, try an’ summon up a grin; <br />There’s a mask that you must always wear the other way about— <br />Lay yer list’ners back and battle till you knock yer sorrers out.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lay-your-ears-back-and-fight/
