Repressed Memories

Just out of curiosity, I decided to take Words suggestion and google the phrase "Buck up, little soldier" to see if it came from some place legitimate or if I'd made it up. Right away I found this poem:



Carry On

It’s easy to fight when everything’s right,
And you’re mad with the thrill and the glory;
It’s easy to cheer when victory’s near,
And wallow in fields that are gory.
It’s a different song when everything’s wrong,
When you’re feeling infernally mortal;
When it’s ten against one, and hope there is none,
Buck up, little soldier, and chortle:

Carry on! Carry on!
There isn’t much punch in your blow.
You’re glaring and staring and hitting out blind;
You’re muddy and bloody, but never you mind.
Carry on! Carry on!
You haven’t the ghost of a show.
It’s looking like death, but while you’ve a breath,
Carry on, my son! Carry on!

And so in the strife of the battle of life
It’s easy to fight when you’re winning;
It’s easy to slave, and starve and be brave,
When the dawn of success is beginning.
But the man who can meet despair and defeat
With a cheer, there’s the man of God’s choosing;
The man who can fight to Heaven’s own height
Is the man who can fight when he’s losing.

Carry on! Carry on!
Things never were looming so black.
But show that you haven’t a cowardly streak,
And though you’re unlucky you never are week.

Carry on! Carry on!
Brace up for another attack.
It’s looking like hell, but -- you never can tell:
Carry on, old man! Carry on!

There are some who drift out in the deserts of doubt,
And some who in brutishness wallow;
There are others, I know, who in piety go
Because of a Heaven to follow.
But to labour with zest, and to give of your best,
For the sweetness and joy of the giving;
To help folks along with a hand and a song;
Why, there’s the real sunshine of living.

Carry on! Carry on!
Fight the good fight and true;
Believe in your mission, greet life with a cheer;
There’s big work to do, and that’s why you are here.
Carry on! Carry on!
Let the world be the better for you;
And at last when you die, let this be your cry:
CARRY ON, MY SOUL! CARRY ON!

Robert W Serviceman


As soon as I read the first line, bells went off in my brain and I remembered that my dad had a framed copy of this poem hanging in the bathroom when I was a kid. Duh!

I don't know why I'd forgotten about it. My brother and I used to say that to each other all the time in our daily verbal abuse.

"Hey, guess what? Jesus hates your guts."

"That's okay, I'm still gonna greet life with a cheer. Jesus can just kiss my rear."

"That's right, buck up little soldier. Even though you're so stupid you make Jesus, and every other guy who sees you want to puke. Carry on anyway. Carry on, I say!"

"Yeah, I labor with zest and give of my best and you should too. Even though you are a balding dwarf elf who will die a virgin. Carry on! Carry on! "

"I may be unlucky, but I am never weak. I will carry on, though my sister is a freak. With a face that makes the angels shriek. Carry on!"

"Very good little soldier, fight the good fight and true. Though you look like a turtle and smell like a zoo. Damn, Jesus really must hate the heck out of you. Carry on!"


"Okay, who said the D word?!" my dad would shout. "I heard it! Both of you go to your rooms right now!"

How could I have forgotten that poem? It's probably had at least as big an influence on my own poetry as Dr. Seuss. I also liked the one that went "This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one's mine..."

Jeez. No wonder I'm so bucked up.