If Baxter Is a Shaolin Master

If Long-Practicing Baxter Were truly a Kung–Fu Master, Wouldn’t his kicks be faster, His praises sung by some raster, His rivals split like a castor, Restoration Prayers of a pastor? If Baxter is Shaolin Master, Why wear the hugest, ugliest plaster, Around walk with an unsightly wound, More troubles face from foes ruined; A headache like plants not pruned And to clearly longer rests attuned? Let me, some day, through a newscaster Learn that China judges Baxter, Shaolin master.