Created
August 26, 2017 07:10
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CHris Eubank Sr About Mcgregor night befor gith August 25
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| Out of the night that covers me, | |
| Black as the pit from pole to pole, | |
| I thank whatever gods may be | |
| For my unconquerable soul. | |
| In the fell clutch of circumstance | |
| I have not winced nor cried aloud. | |
| Under the bludgeonings of chance | |
| My head is bloody, but unbowed. | |
| Beyond this place of wrath and tears | |
| Looms but the Horror of the shade, | |
| And yet the menace of the years | |
| Finds and shall find me unafraid. | |
| It matters not how strait the gate, | |
| How charged with punishments the scroll, | |
| I am the master of my fate, | |
| I am the captain of my soul. |
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