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Finnigans Finish

 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.

Poem by Robert William Service
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Book: Shattered Sighs