IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all pundits doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can be benched and not be tired by waiting,
Or being fouled about, don't deal in fouls,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can shoot - and not make the goal your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by Mackems to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn and shot in the box,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Howay!'
If you can talk with Mackems and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Bobby- nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor Mick can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving cameo
With 25 minutes' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Mackem Slayer marra!
