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If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,' Or walk with crutches- nor lose the common touch,if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,If all men count with you, but none too much;If you can fill the unforgiving minuteWith sixty seconds' worth of distance run,Yours is the Keepmoat and everything that's in it,And - which is more - you'll be a Brooker, my son!