Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud;
 Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud;
 Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.
 Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown;
 With that wild wheel we go not up or down;
 Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.
 Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands;
 Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands;
 For man is man and master of his fate.

 Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd;
 Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud;
 Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.