I know that the world—the great, big world,
From the peasant up to the king,
Has a different tale from the tale I tell
And a different song to sing.
But for me—and I care not a single fig
If they say I was wrong or am right—
I shall always go in for the weaker dog,
For the under dog in the fight.
I know that the world—the great, big world—
Will never a moment stop
To see which dog may be in the fault,
But will shout for the dog on top.
But for me—I never shall pause to ask
Which dog may be in the right—
For my own heart will beat, while it beats at all,
For the under dog in the fight.