He didn't float, like a butterfly,
nor did he sting, like a bee;
he looked out of place,
ungraceful and clumsy.
But he had a punch, that
could put you away;
and as a contender,
he looked to stay.
He rose in the ranks,
with his old 'Suzy Q";
just how good was this guy?
nobody knew.
Then he took the crown,
and there was no doubt;
most people he fought,
were commonly knocked out.
He was the true Rocky,
all the rest were a sham;
undefeated, unbowed,
I salute the best man.
He couldn't sing, nor play
the damn piano;
he was only a fighter,
they called Marciano.