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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508215" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Beak-Bashing Boy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">But yesterday I banked on fistic fame,<br>Figgerin' I'd be a champion of the Ring.<br>Today I've half a mind to quit the Game,<br>For all them rosy dreams have taken wing,<br>Since last night a secondary bout<br>I let a goddam nigger knock me out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It must have been that T-bone steak I ate;<br>They might have doped it, them smart gambling guys,<br>For round my heart I felt a heavy weight,<br>A stab of pain that should have put me wise.<br>But oh the cheering of the fans was sweet,<br>And never once I reckoned on defeat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I had the nigger licked - twice he went down,<br>And there was just another round to go.<br>I played with him, I made him look a clown,<br>Yet he was game, and traded blow for blow.<br>And then that piston pain, the dark of doom . . .<br>Like meat they lugged me to my dressing-room.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So that's the pay-off to my bid for fame.<br>But yesterday my head was in the sky,<br>And now I slink and sag in sorry shame,<br>And hate to look my backers in the eye.<br>They think I threw the fight; I sorto' feel<br>The ringworms rate me for a lousy heel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh sure I could go on - but gee! it's rough<br>To be a pork-and-beaner at the best;<br>To beg for bouts, yet getting not enough<br>To keep a decent feed inside my vest;<br>To go on canvas-kissing till I come<br>To cadge for drinks just like a Bowery bum.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hell no! I'll slug my guts out till I die.<br>I'll be no bouncer in a cheap saloon.<br>I'll give them swatatorium scribes the lie,<br>I'll make a come-back, aye and pretty soon.<br>I'll show them tinhorn sports; I'll train and train,<br>I'll hear them cheer - oh Christ! the pain, the PAIN . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stable-Boss:<br>&quot;Poor punk! you're sunk - you'll never scrap again.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508215" data-title="Beak-Bashing Boy de Robert William Service" data-description="But yesterday I banked on fistic fame,
Figgerin' I'd be a champion of the Ring.
Today I've half a mind to quit the Game,
For all them rosy dreams have taken wing,
Since last night a secondary bout
I let a goddam nigger knock me out.

It must have ..."></div>
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