I've always "stood up to my Fate"
And taken all her punches;
I've let her land each wallop straight,
And how it rocks and crunches!
But now--I've learned a bit of sense;
If socking's Fate's reliance,
I'll profit by experience
And use a little science.
I'll duck and dodge and stall and cling,
I'll keep my eyes unbloodied,
And let Fate chase me round the ring,
Until her style I've studied.
I'll twist and sidestep, weave and dance,
I'll clinch and hold and block her,
Until I get a decent chance
To set myself and sock her!
What? Sock a lady? Boy, that dame
Is rough and mean and shady,
She plays a hard and crooked game;
In fact--she ain't no lady.
She has a horseshoe in each mitt;
Shall I stand up at random,
Forbear to hit when I can hit,
And simply let her land 'em?
I'm through with being counted out,
From taking blows high-powered,
Becasue I thought some stupid lout
Might holler "Fight, you coward!"
If nature gave me skill, not strength,
I'll not be bruised and pounded,
But use my bean until at length
The finish gong is sounded.