The Sunflower Kid
By Koffdrop DeHaven.
A few years back, in my palmy days, when the boxing game was grand,
I tipped the scales at a hundred and ten; had a punch in either hand;
But I never was a top notch, the reason for which I’ll tell,
I was learning a trade in a boiler shop; I worked, and worked like everything;
I was down at the gym three times a week, tore off six rounds each night,
’Till I found myself in tiptop shape and ready for the fight.
I was matched to box “The Sunflower Kid,” the colored bantam champ;
I knew he was good so I trained down fine, and stuck to my training camp.
For I never drank nor smoked then, boys, I prided my health and strength,
Could box like Gibbons and hit like Jack, had a good left jab for its length.
The fight with the “chocolate drop” was at the Chickatawbut club;
Although I was white I was in the dark for they took me for a dub.
We entered the ring and a whoop went up, we both shared the applause,
They liked us both and “The Kid” was a price and we knew each other’s flaws.
For we went to school together, “The Sunflower Kid” and me,
And we knew each other’s tactics like the saying A to Z.
The bell rang; we came to the front and neither of us smiled,
We were feinting and “feeling each other out,” and one of my swings went wild;
No damage was done in the opening round, except for a few left hooks,
I was sure I had his number then and proceeded to mar his looks.
The eighth opened up, I was still very fresh, getting stronger all the while,
I ducked “The Kid’s” right swing to the jaw and met him with a smile,
Yes, a smile and also a right hand smash to the softest part of the jaw,
And “The Kid” went down from the force of the blow and laid out on the straw.
The referee counted ten and then the “Kid” didn’t move a bit,
I knelt beside him, got hold of his head, I knew he was hard hit.
A doctor jumped in and felt his pulse, put water on his head,
A minute later he tested his heart and announced the “Kid” was dead.
From that time on, I’m sorry to say, my life began to fail
In health and strength and happiness for I served ten years in jail.
And now I am fighting Barleycorn and my hair is turning gray,
And I’ll beget this tough old gamester until my judgment day.
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