I am looking for a poem called "The Quitter". I have no idea who wrote it and can't remember much of the content. I know this isn't much help but would appreciate it if anyone could find it. I need it to inspire a friend who is sick and needs inspiration.

-- Tania Kelly (tania.kelly@heskethhenry.co.nz), January 31, 2000

Answers

The Quitter Robert W. Service

When you're lost in the Wild, and you're scared as a child,

And Death looks you bang in the eye,

And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle

To cock your revolver and . . . die.

But 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 on your grit; it's so easy to quit:

It's the keeping-your-chin-up that's hard.

It's easy to cry that you're beaten -- and die;

It's easy to crawfish and crawl;

But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight --

Why, that's the best game of them all!

And though you come out of each gruelling bout,

All broken and beaten and scarred,

Just have one more try -- it's dead easy to die,

It's the keeping-on-living that's hard.

-- ilza (ilza@pobox.com), February 01, 2000.