He Will Kill Mice And He Will

If You Can Walk With The Crowd And Keep Your Virtue, Or Walk With Kings-nor Lose The Common Touch; If Neither Foes Nor Loving Friends Can Hurt You; If All Men Count With You, But None Too Much; If You Can Fill The Unforgiving Minute With Sixty Seconds' Worth Of Distance Run, Yours Is The Earth And Everything That's In It, And - Which Is More - You'll Be A Man My Son!

The 'eathen In 'is Blindness Must End Where 'e Began. But The Backbone Of The Army Is The Non-commissioned Man!

The White Moth To The Closing Vine, The Bee To The Open Clover, And The Gypsy Blood To The Gypsy Blood Ever The Wide World Over.

If You Can Meet With Triumph And Disaster And Treat Those Two Impostors Just The Same.

The Beasts Are Very Wise, Their Mouths Are Clean Of Lies, They Talk One To The Other, Bullock To Bullock Brothers Resting After Their Labors, Each In Stall With His Neighbors, But Man With Goad And Whip, Breaks Up Their Fellowship, Shouts In Their Silky Ears Filling Their Soul With Fears. When He Has Plowed The Land, He Says: "they Understand." But The Beasts In Stall Together, Freed From The Yoke And Tether, Say As The Torn Flank Smoke: "nay, 'twas The Whip That Spoke."