The man who, driven against the wall,
Still stands up erect and takes
The blows of fate with his head held high,
Bleeding and bruised, and pale.
Is the man who'll win in the by and by,
For he isn't afraid to fail.
It's the bumps you get and the jolts you get
And the shocks that your courage stands.
The hours of sorrow and vain regret,
That prize that escapes your hands