The Quitter
Robert W. Service
1874 to 1958
Type into the gaps to complete the poem. To reset the game, click on the "Reset Game" button located below the poem. This will clear all the words you've placed in the blanks, and resetting the poem to its original state with empty blanks. If you prefer to drag and drop words, click the Drag & Drop button below. You can also print out the poem for use in the classroom.
When you're lost in the Wild, and you're scared a child,
And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you're sore as a boil, it's according to
To cock your revolver and . . . die.
the Code of a Man says: “Fight all you can,”
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it's easy to blow . . .
It's the hell-served-for-breakfast that's hard.
“You're sick of the game!” Well, now, that's a shame.
You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
“You've had a raw deal!” I know — but don't squeal,
Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.
It's the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don't be a piker, old pard!
Just draw your grit; it's so easy to quit —
It's keeping-your-chin-up that's hard.
It's easy to cry that you're — and die;
It's easy to crawfish and crawl;
to fight and to fight when hope's out of —
Why, that's the best game of them all!
though you come out of each gruelling bout,
All and battered and scarred,
Just have one more try — it's dead easy to die,
It's the keeping-on-living that's hard.