The Wise One gazed in silent gloom,
While oaths and uproar hurtled through the room--
"Hi, there, a monkey on the Pollux Pet;"
"Fifty to forty;" "Blank your eyes, no bet;"
"A level thousand on the Castor Chick;"
"Brandy for two, and, curse you, bring it quick."
While one who spake to _Punch_ rapped out an oath--
"Who cares?" he said, "I stand to win on both.
Fair play be blowed, that's all a pack of lies,
Let fools fight fair, while _these_ cut up the prize.
Old Cock, you needn't frown; I'm in the know,
And if you don't like barneys, dash it, go!"
One blow from _Punch_ had quelled th' audacious man,
He raised his hand, when, lo, the fight began.
"Time! time!" called one; the cornered ruffians rose,
Shook hands, squared up, then swift they rained in blows.
Feint follows feint, and whacks on whacks succeed,
Struck lips grow puffy, battered eye-brows bleed.
From simultaneous counters heads rebound,
And ruby drops are scattered on the ground.
Abraded foreheads flushing show the raw,
And fistic showers clatter on the jaw.
* * * * *
Now on "the mark" impinge the massive hands,
Now on the kissing-trap a crasher lands.
Blood-dripping noses lose their sense of smell,
And ribs are roasted that a crowd may yell.
Each round the other's neck the champions cling,
Then break away, and stagger round the ring.
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