The Boy Who Fought A Fight that night, never saw the morning light
He scrunched his fists and stood up tall, but that didn't work at all
The Man was large
The Man was buff
The Man was Tall
The Man was bald
The Man had experience
The Man had change
The Man stood still
He didn't crouch away
The Boy was small
The Boy was thin
The Boy was short
The Boy had hair
The Boy was a amateur
The Boy was poor
The Boy backed down
He did not recognise the crowd
A fist was thrown, a splat was heard
A kick bit back, a swish of air
Another punch, another hit
Another kick, which did nothing but miss
A fist full of hair, a rip beyond compare
A scream of mercy, my God he was thirsty
Then one last hit, one last kick
One last punch, and it was done for love
The Boy was down
The Man stood his ground
The Boy did not move
The Man failed to loose
The Boy stopped breathing
The Man stopped feeding
The Boy in blood
The Man in mud
The Boy Who Fought A Fight that night, never saw the morning light
He scrunched his fists and stood up tall, but that didn't work at all
And now he lay amongst his grave, buried for love and christened by pain
In the memory of his life, this was the boy who fought a fight
