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It’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 !

Fight the good fight and true;
Believe in your mission, greet life with a
cheer;
There’s big work to do, and that’s why you
are here.
Carry on! Carry on!
Let the world be the better for you;
And at last when you die, let this be your cry :
Carry on, my soul! Carry on!

It’s looking like death, but while you’ve a
breath,
Carry on, my son ! Carry on !
Fight the good fight and true;
Believe in your mission, greet life with a
cheer;
There’s big work to do, and that’s why you are here.
Carry on! Carry on!

Let the world be the better for you;
And at last when you die, let this be your cry :
Carry on, my soul! Carry on!

-Maltbie Babcock