And at the end of round the first,
He got it fearful hot,
This was his baptism of fire
If we mistake it not.
So Willie sent a letter home
To mother old Augusta,
Telling her he’d thrashed poor Loo,
And given him such a duster.
“What wonderful events,” says he,
“Has heaven brought about,
I’ll fight the greatest pugilist
That ever was brought out.
And if by divine Providence
I get safe through this row,
Then I will sing ‘My God, the spring
From whom all blessings flow.’”
Meanwhile the other Monitors,
Were standing looking on,
But none of them dare speak a word,
But all stared straight at John.
“Ought not I to interfere?”
Says Johnny to the rest;
But he was told by every one
Neutrality was best.
“Neutral,” growl’d John, “I hate the word,
’Tis poison to my ear;
It’s another word for cowardice,
And makes me fit to swear.
“At any rate I can do this,
My mind I will not mask,
I’ll give poor Loo a little drop
Out of my brandy flask.
“And give it up, poor Loo, my lad,
You might as well give in,
You know that I have got no power;
Besides, you did begin.”
Then Louis rose, and looked at John,
And spoke of days gone by
When he would not have seen his friend
Have blackened Johnny’s eye.