Robert William Service (16 January 1874 - 11 September 1958 / Preston)
They thought I'd be a champion;
They boasted loud of me.
A dozen victories I'd won,
The Press was proud of me.
I saw myself with glory crowned,
And would, beyond a doubt,
Till last night in the second round
A Dago knocked me out.
It must have been an accident;
I cannot understand.
For I was so damn confident
I'd lick him with one hand.
I bounded in the ring to cheers;
I panted for the fray:
Ten minutes more with hoots and jeers
They bore me limp away.
I will not have the nerve to face
The sporting mob today;
The doll I fell for--my disgrace
Will feel and fade away.
Last night upon the brink of fame
No favour did I lack:
Tomorrow from the sink of shame
I'll beg my old job back.
Comments about this poem (Finnigan's Finish by Robert William Service )
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