Up Against It

When y're up against it, don't get feelin' blue; Somewher' in this world of ours ther's a place f'r you. Y'r jes' a round peg in a squar', y' ain't th' proper fit; Keep turnin', twistin' every way--an' rise a little bit.

If we'd all we wanted in this whirlin' globe we're on, W'y we'd all begin t' grouch--then begin t' yawn; We'd get dead sick o' summer without a tech o' frost, An' Ex-pe-ri-ence we got t' hev' regardless of th' cost.

Oh, th' smell o' fightin' powder, that's th' perfume f'r th' nose; Without th' thorn in hidin' who'd care t' pluck th' Rose? An' th' tears that wet y'r pillo' at night when y' go t' bed, They'll wash away y'r troubles--an' y'r sins, tho' ruby red.

Boy, when y'r up against it, get y'r back agin' a fence An' swing that good ol' we'pon we used t' call "horse sense": Pitch off y'r coat--go at it jes' like a fightin' man; Throw up y'r head--glad y' ain't dead-- Then sluice y'r bench--an' pan!

Say, when y'r up against it, don't get feelin' blue; Ther's room t' spare, ther's plenty air; ain't that enough f'r you? Every bed-rock wash-up ain't all gold t' th' pan, But life CAN'T be a "failure" if y' play th' game a MAN!