Just stumbled across this and though id share it with u guys
Peerless Jim Driscoll
I saw Jim Driscoll fight in nineteen ten.
That takes u back a bit. You dont see men
Like Driscoll anymore. The breeds died out.
There's no one fit to lace his boots about.
All right son. Have your laugh. You know it all.
You think these mugs today that cuff and maul
Their way through ten or fifteen threes can fight.
They hardly know their left hand from their right.
But Jim he knew, he never slapped or swung,
His left hand flickered like a cobra's tongue
And when he followed with the old one-two
Black lightning of those fists would dazzle you.
By Jesus he could hit, ive never seen
A sweeter puncher, every blow was clean
As silver. Peerless Jim the papers named him,
And yet he never swaggered, never bragged.
I saw him once when he got properly tagged -
A sucker punch from nowhere on the chin -
And he was hurt but all he did was grin
And nod as if to say "I asked for that."
No one was ever more worth looking at,
Up there beneath the ache of arc-lamps he
Was just like what we'd love our sons to be
Or like those gods you've heard about at school...
Well yes, im old and maybe im a fool.
I only saw him once outside the ring
And i admit i found it disappointing.
He looked just - i dont know - just ordinary
And smaller, too, than i thought he'd be
An ordinary man in fact, like you or me
Peerless Jim Driscoll
I saw Jim Driscoll fight in nineteen ten.
That takes u back a bit. You dont see men
Like Driscoll anymore. The breeds died out.
There's no one fit to lace his boots about.
All right son. Have your laugh. You know it all.
You think these mugs today that cuff and maul
Their way through ten or fifteen threes can fight.
They hardly know their left hand from their right.
But Jim he knew, he never slapped or swung,
His left hand flickered like a cobra's tongue
And when he followed with the old one-two
Black lightning of those fists would dazzle you.
By Jesus he could hit, ive never seen
A sweeter puncher, every blow was clean
As silver. Peerless Jim the papers named him,
And yet he never swaggered, never bragged.
I saw him once when he got properly tagged -
A sucker punch from nowhere on the chin -
And he was hurt but all he did was grin
And nod as if to say "I asked for that."
No one was ever more worth looking at,
Up there beneath the ache of arc-lamps he
Was just like what we'd love our sons to be
Or like those gods you've heard about at school...
Well yes, im old and maybe im a fool.
I only saw him once outside the ring
And i admit i found it disappointing.
He looked just - i dont know - just ordinary
And smaller, too, than i thought he'd be
An ordinary man in fact, like you or me
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