The stakes were drove, the ropes were hitched, Into the ring my hat I pitched. My corner faced the Squire’s park Just where the fir-trees make it dark; The place where I begun poor Nell Upon the woman’s road to hell. I thought oft, sitting in my corner After the time-keep struck his warner (Two brandy flasks, for fear of noise, Clinked out the time to us two boys). And while my seconds chafed and gloved me I thought of Nell’s eyes when she loved me, And wondered how my tot would end, First Nell cast off and now my friend; And in the moonlight dim and wan I knew quite well my luck was gone; And looking round I felt a spite At all who’d come to see me fight; The five and forty human faces Inflamed by drink and going to races, Faces of men who’d never been Merry or true or live or clean; Who’d never felt the boxer’s trim Of brain divinely knit to limb, Nor felt the whole live body go One tingling health from top to toe; Nor took a punch nor given a swing, But just soaked deady round the ring Until their brains and bloods were foul Enough to make their throttles howl, While we whom Jesus died to teach Fought round on round, three minutes each. And thinking that, you’ll understand I thought, ’I’ll go and take Bill’s hand. I’ll up and say the fault was mine, He sha’n’t make play for these here swine.’ And then I thought that that was silly, They’d think I was afraid of Billy: They’d think (I thought it, God forgive me) I funked the hiding Bill could give me. And that thought made me mad and hot. ’Think that, will they? Well, they shall not. They sha’n’t think that. I will not. I’m Damned if I will. I will not.’ Time! From the beginning of the bout My luck was gone, my hand was out. Right from the start Bill called the play, But I was quick and kept away Till the fourth round, when work got mixed, And then I knew Bill had me fixed. My hand was out, why, Heaven knows; Bill punched me when and where he chose. Through two more rounds we quartered wide And all the time my hands seemed tied; Bill punched me when and where he pleased. The cheering from my backers ceased, But every punch I heard a yell Of ’That’s the style, Bill, give him hell.’ No one for me, but Jimmy’s light ’Straight left! Straight left!’ and ’Watch his right.’ I don’t know how a boxer goes When all his body hums from blows; I know I seemed to rock and spin, I don’t know how I saved my chin; I know I thought my only friend Was that clinked flask at each round’s end When my two seconds, Ed and Jimmy, Had sixty seconds help to gimme. But in the ninth, with pain and knocks I stopped: I couldn’t fight nor box. Bill missed his swing, the light was tricky, But I went down, and stayed down, dicky. ’Get up,’ cried Jim. I said, ’I will.’ Then all the gang yelled, ’Out him, Bill. Out him.’ Bill rushed ... and Clink, Clink, Clink. Time! and Jim’s knee, and rum to drink. And round the ring there ran a titter: ’Saved by the call, the bloody quitter.’