i
��Robert W. Service
Your minute s nearly gone, my lad, he heard a voice
repeat. Shoot ! shoot ! the dying Zouave moaned ; Shoot ! shoot !
the soldiers said : Then Jean Desprez reached out and shot . . . the
Prussian Major dead.
CARRY ON
T S easy to fight when everything s right,
And you re mad with the thrill and the glory ; It s easy to cheer when victory s near,
And wallow in fields that are gory. It s a different song when everything s wrong,
When you re feeling infernally mortal; When it s ten against one, and hope there is none,
Buck up, little soldier, and chortle: Carry on! Carry on!
There isn t much punch in your blow. You re glaring and staring and hitting out blind; You re muddy and bloody, but never you mind; Carry on! Carry on!
You haven t the ghost of a show; It s looking like death, but while you ve a breath,
Carry on, my son! Carry on!
And so in the strife of the battle of life,
It s easy to fight when you re winning; It s easy to slave and starve and be brave
When the dawn of success is beginning; But the man who can meet despair and defeat
With a cheer there s the man of God s choosing; The man who can fight to Heaven s own height
Is the man who can fight when he s losing.
Carry on ! Carry on ! Things never were looming so black. But show that you haven t a cowardly streak,
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