The grit of the man who stands alone,
In the face of a furious fight,
Who doesn't back down or cower and crawl,
Him shall I call to the light.

The heart of the man who has loved and lost,
And who seems at the end of the trail,
If he picks himself up by the straps of his boots,
Him shall I help without fail.

The man who like Phoenix shall rise from the ash,
Is the one who will win at the end,
He never backed down or cowered and crawled,
Him shall I call my friend.

Cornelius Thiessen