He fights where the fighting is thickest
    And keeps his high honor clean;
From finish to start, he is sturdy of heart,
    Shunning the petty and mean;
With his friends in their travail and sorrow,
    He is ever there to stand by,
And hark to their plea, for they all know that he
    Is a regular sort of a guy.

He cheers up the sinner repentant
    And sets him again on his feet;
He is there with a slap, and a pat on the back,
    For the lowliest bum on the street;
He smiles when the going is hardest,
    With a spirit no money can buy;
And take it from me, we all love him 'cause he
    Is a regular sort of a guy.

I don't care for the praise of the nations,
    Or a niche in the great hall of fame,
Or that posterity should remember me
    When my dust and the dust the same;
But my soul will be glad if my friends say
    As they turn from my bier with a sigh,
"Though he left no great name, yet he played out the game
    Like a regular sort of a guy."