"Through the travail of the ages, Midst the pomp and toil of war, Have I fought and strove and perished countless times upon this star. In the form of many people In all panoplies of time Have I seen the luring vision Of the Victory Maid, sublime. I have sinned and I have suffered, Played the hero and the knave; Fought for belly, shame, or country, And for each have found a grave... I cannot name my battles For the visions are not clear, Yet, I see the twisted faces And I feel the rending spear. I have fought with gun and cutlass On the red and slippery deck, With all Hell aflame within me And a rope around my neck... So as through a glass, and darkly, The age long strife I see Where I fought in many guises, Many names, but always me... And I see not in my blindness What the objects were I wrought, But as God rules o'er our bickerings, It was through His will I fought. So forever in the future, Shall I battle as of yore, Dying to be born a fighter, But to die again, once more."