In a hot dusty playground of a small country school
Where nobody's heard of the Queensbury rules,
A skinny young boy cried tears of defeat
And they made two rivers down the dust of his cheeks.
So he ran home to Mother and told her his woes;
How the bully had licked him and bloodied his nose.
She said to him "Son, you might be quite small
But the bigger they come the harder they fall.
So pick yourself up and dust yourself down,
Battles ain't won lying down on the ground.
Never say die and always come back
'Cause dynamite comes in a very small pack".
On a hot dusty battleground serving his land,
That boy was mortally wounded young man.
He said to himself "Man you ain't dead yet!"
He remembered the words that his mother had said.
So pick yourself up and dust yourself down,
Battles ain't won lying down on the ground.
Never say die and always come back
'Cause dynamite comes in a very small pack".