performed by
Warren Hastings
 As told by a 'small-time' ex-heavyweight bruiser.

I'm 'Battling Beerhouse Baloney'
An' also 'The Slaughterhouse Kid.' 
Open to meet any lad o' me weight
For anything up to a quid. 

'Punch-drunk Palooka' they calls me,
Or 'Choppin'-Block Charley' maybe. 
Twenty odd years at the fight game,
Though not at the top o' the tree.

You won't see me name in the papers,
I've lost over five hundred fights. 
You gotta admit that's a record.
I oughta be champeen by rights. 

Yet, somehow, I'm ruddy unlucky.
As soon as I jumps in the ring,
Along comes an earthquake, an' socks me,
Then I don't remember a thing.

I've spent half me lifetime unconscious,
A' lyin' there flat on me back.
I've been out for days at a time, pals,
After a murderous crack.

Half me life on me back in the sawdust,
Unconscious, an' dead to the wide.
It ain't that I'm scared fer to take it,
But it 'urts me perfessional pride. 

There's one thing I'll always remember,
An' that was the fight o' me life.
The night I fought Cockeyed O'Connor,
The Swedish Gorilla from Fife. 

We enters the ring at ten-firty,
The crowd starts a' cheerin' like mad. 
I takes one good look at O'Connor,
An' what I see makes me feel bad.

He stands there, a great 'airy monster,
As tall as a telegraph pole.
Thinks I, after this, if I'm livin',
I'll chuck it, an' go on the dole. 

Just then I looks at the ring-side,
An', love-a-duck, what do I see? 
Why, a beautiful golden-haired sweetie,
A' sittin' there smilin' at me.

You talk about Hollywood Mommas!
She has 'em all skint by a mile. 
This doll is the rabbit's pajamas,
An', boy, how that baby can smile! 

I sees as I've clicked with this fairy,
An' this puts some wind in me sails, 
So I goes like a lamb to the slaughter,
Pleased, like a dog with two tails.

The bell rings, an' now we get started.
It don't take me long to find out 
O'Connor's as slow as a tortoise,
If 'e does pack a terrible clout. 

Just like a slow-motion picture
Whenever 'e swings with his right. 
I puts in some real fancy foot-work,
Till the crowd yells, 'What is this... a fight?' 

Then I winks at the golden-haired baby,
I'm startin' to feel more at 'ome.
But, somehow, I musta got careless,
For 'CRACK!' drops the roof on me dome.

An', comin' to me through the blackout,
A voice starts a' countin' me out.
I feels that me pride is offended. 
I jumps to me feet with a shout.

I'm gnashin' me teeth like a tiger,
An' with a blood-curdlin' roar,
I springs like a fiend at O'Connor,
A' snortin' an' cryin' for gore.

As Cockeye just stands there a' blinkin', 
I hits him so hard an' so fast,
He's helpless... an' gaspin'... an' thinkin'
Each breath what 'e takes is 'is last.

I sinks me left inter his middle, 
Right up to me elbow... Kerplunk!
An' then both 'is knees starts to wobble, 
He staggers around like 'es drunk.

An' as 'e sinks down to the sawdust, 
I lands 'im a crack on the ,jaw,
Which near tears 'is 'ead from 'is body, 
An' there `e is-out on the floor.

The crowd, they goes very nigh crazy.
To see that I'd won was a cinch.
The golden-haired baby comes runnin', 
An' gets me tied up in a clinch.

She kisses me! Talk about mustard! 
That doll is'a heat-wave on fire.
I feels like a guy with the fever, 
In spite of me scanty attire.

'I'll wait for you, big boy,' she gurgles,
'Look slippy, and meet me outside,'
I feels like I've just bought the city, 
'I'll be right there, gorgeous,' I cried.

The fight-fans all starts fer to mob me, 
Till shakin' `ands gives me the cramp.
They carries me out on their shoulders, 
Cheerin', and callin' me 'Champ.'

I'm ready in less than a jiffy,
An' out in the street on the run,
An' sure enough, there she is waitin' 
(It looks like we're gonna have fun)

A swanky Rolls Royce, an' a chauffeur, 
A guy like a slick movie star,
'Home, James,' she pipes, an' lor-lummey! 
There's me an' her inside the car.

We glides through the streets, in' the traffic, 
(That feller sure knows how ter drive)
An' pulls up outside of a mansion, 
Thinks I, this is where we arrive. 

It looks like a bookmaker's palace, 
With flunkey's lined up by the score,
In posh scarlet coats, an' silk stockin's 
All standin' like stiffs at the door.

Inside it's just like a the-a-ter,
With statues of guys dressed in tin,
An' carpet so thick, an' so ritzy, 
To walk on it seems like a sin.

They shows us both inter the parlour, 
A sight fer to dazzle the dead,
An' there we sits down on a sofa, 
An' she starts a 'strokin' me head.

It seems like I'm goin' to Heaven, 
I grabs 'er, an' cuddles 'er tight.
Her ruby-red lips is a' smilin',
Her eyes is all tender, an' bright. 

The smell of a beautiful perfume
Near carries me senses away.
She couldn't a' bought it at Woolworths.
Much better than that, I should say. 

I shuts both me eyes with emotion,
'Please kiss me,' she whispers, an' sighs. 
But just then 'er voice sorta changes.
That's funny!... I opens me eyes. 

'I'm sorry I hit you so hard, mate.
Lor-lummey ! I thought you was dead!' 
An' there stands ole Cockeyed O'Connor!
The end