Holding Your Nerve

Well, knock me right down with a feather It's true that some faith in whatever And holding one's nerve under fire Can result in the things we require Being sent to us served on a plate By God, chance or synchronous fate So, cross fingers or whisper a prayer Take small practical steps up the stair Fret ye not and have hope for the best And watch time take good care of the rest Who can say what the future will bring When we wait for fat ladies to sing by Gail