Roger Whittaker - A Song for Eric

If you can keep your head while all about you
are losing theirs and blaming it on you
if you can trust yourself while all men doubt you
but make allowance for their doubting too

If you can wait and not be tired from waiting
or being lied about, don't deal in lies
or being hated, don't give way to hating
and yet don't look to good or talk to wize

If you can dream, and not make dreams your master
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
and treat those two imposters just the same

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
twisted by knaves to make a track for fools
or watch the things you gave your life to broken
and stoop and build them up with worn out tools

If you can make one heap for all your winnings
and risk it on one turn of pitch and toss
and lose and start again at your begining
and never breath a word about your loss

If you can false your heart and nerve and sinue
to serve your term long after they are gone
and so hold on when there is nothing in you
except the will which says to them hold on

If you can talk with crouds and not lose your virtue
or walk with kings nor lose the common touch
if neither foe nor loving friend can hurt you
if all men count on you but none to much

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
with sixty seconds worth of distance run
Oh, your is the world and everything that's in it
and which is more you'll be a man my son
and which is more you'll be a man my son