The match was planned, oh, weeks ahead
And both the fighters famous.
The challenger was Jaunty Jim.
The champion was Seamus.
Now Seamus stood just five feet two
And weighed 200 pounds.
And Jim they say was six foot ten
And could go eleven rounds.
The sniping started right away
On both sides and so petty.
Bragging, ragging, bally-hoo!
The Beachball meets Spaghetti.
The pair prepared in every way,
With exercise and diets.
The tickets for the special night
Had ended up in riots.
It’s said that Seamus looked his best.
He’d dropped a goodly sum.
Perhaps a dozen pounds or so
And weighed one eighty one.
And Jim was lifting weights all day
And eating like a horse!
He stood much taller than his foe
But lacked a punch with force.
The weeks rushed by. The date drew near,
And both the gents were ready.
The press and bookies made their rounds.
The odds on both held steady.
And then at last the night had come.
The crowds had filled the tent.
The heat, and smoke, and sweat were thick
When the telegram was sent.
The referees, promoters too,
And trainers stood there shaking.
They read the message right out loud
To all whose hearts were breaking.
“Dear Sirs, you see, we’ve left you all.
We’d rather never fight.
We talked a bit and made a plan
To leave by train last night.
We’re going to Niagara Falls.
And travel far and near.
Then Jim and I may buy a house.
Please wish us luck! We’re queer.”
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