I do not ask, my friend, if you
Were born a Gentile or a Jew,
A Buddhist, or Mohammedian:
I only ask, are you a man?
It matters not, my friend, to me
If you are black as black can be,
Or colored red, or brown, or tan:
I ask but this, are you a man?
I care not, brother, whence you came,
Nor do I seek to know your name,
Your race, religion, creed or clan:
I want to know if you're a man.
I care not if you're homely quite,
Or handsome as an angle bright,
If you, throughout your little span,
Have only shown yourself a man.
I think that most men think like that:
They hate a weakling, loathe a rat;
They've always liked, since time began,
One who is first and last a man.