“He which hath no stomach to this fight.
Let him depart.
His passport shall be made.
We will not die in that dog’s company.
Old dogs forget
but he will remember, with advantages,
the feats he did that day.
Then shall our names familiar in his mouth
as household words,
Seppala, the driver,
Fritz and Sally, Molly and Red and Togo,
the great Togo in lead,
be all in their flowing water bowls
And dogs in Nome, now abed, shall think
themselves accursed they were not here.
We few, we happy few,
we band of champions.
Now, run, my pups. Run!”