In the 13th, Johnson’s bear’sclaws swat! shiner! hoo!  
he brings fight, he craves adoring, wildering light.
Tossed up! backed up! ropes-the-dope, pow!
he’s here to fight, he craves the raging light.
Bloodboned from both hands caves a mug.
He wants to fight, he craves the bloody light.

The vine’s bloom breaks—flow down like wine.
He strives, shatters, craves the flooding camera light.
He slip, he move, he counter—move four feet away,
he fights to bust a maw, craves the flooding day.
For honor, booty, carnage bleed iron knives,
he fights to live, bones he shatter, craves a dying light.

Gloved with KenWel’s he tore down meat today,
thumped the chump to spasm, craved the lights hooray.
Jack the Lion trembles, wheelin’ Rolls in the wake,
he fought to live, with his fair lady, in the light of high noon,
Ran the “Black and Tan” the country knew—
I fight to eat, I fight to live with stars by night, amen, O, God.