Poem -

Manassa Mauler

    Two fists like baseball bats.

    A champ’s champ folks love to see.

   High cheek bones and a cool haircut.

   Prize-fighting immortality.

   A man’s man with charisma to match.

   Legend of a by gone place.

   His bouts fans travelled to catch.

   No one could forget that rugged face.

   The roaring twenties; his time to shine.

   An era to behold.

   His legacy lingers quite fine.

   A great story to be told.

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