He may be a large dog-may be small.
He will fight one dog or fight ’em all.
He will give you all that he has to give.
It’s the only way he knows to live.
He has earned the respect of poor men and kings:
He has fought in the open, in pits, and in rings.
He has fought the wolverine, the bull, and the bear,
For his own life he has not a care.
He will not cower, he will not cry,
For to be called a “cur” he would rather die.
A cur and a fighter are not the same
A cur is a quitter, but a fighter is game.
We don’t force him to fight; he can quit any time,
But it’s not a bulldog that stands the line.
When men speak of Bulldogs, the words that fit
Are those like courage, stamina, and grit.
In the pit he is powerful, fierce, and wild,
But at home, he will sleep with the smallest child.
He knows not the meaning of a word called quit.
He lives on a chain, but he longs for the pit.
The blood of champions flows in his veins;
He can stand the heat; he can stand the pain.
If it comes to the scratch, he’ll make the run
When he hears his master cry “Aww, Son”.