Stripped to the buff they circled round,
And jagged and swung and crossed;
To uppercut and smash and pound
No chances either lost;
Till folks opined, in some alarm,
That they might do each other harm.

Fiercely, they swung the left and right,
With punch and bash and clout:
Each grimly hopeful that he might
Secure the glad knock-out.
And, as they watched the 'claret' spurt,
The crowd feared someone might be hurt.

The ribs of one were bruised and sore,
His chin was badly gashed;
The other's face was streaked with gore;
And yet they biffed and bashed.
And someone said, 'It this goes on
There'll be an injury anon.'

Harder and swifter rained the blows,
And fiercer grew the fray;
At chest and chin and eye and nose
Each boxer biffed away;
Till cried the audience in fright,
If they're not stopped they'll start to fight!'

But on they battled, bruised and dazed,
Scarce able now to stand;
Until the Law stepped in and raised
A stern, restraining hand.
'Ah!' sighed the crowd, freed from suspense,
'It might have led to violence.'