BEASTLY TALES

THE SUMO

Now the wrestling matches are strange indeed,
Every intricate manoeuvre one must heed.
The concept of the match is a complicated thing,
It involves throwing your opponent out of the ring.
But not in the manner of Western wrestling,
Where the boards of the ring are supported by trestling,
Where killer Kowalski lifts his opponent high,
And helicopters him over the ropes to say goodbye.
The Sumo ring seems to be made on the sand,
The momentum by bulldozing and a hand,
On the skimpy sash that they’re to wear,
And so the gigantically enormous pair,
Waddle and push and pull as much as they dare.
Until one of them is finally out of the ring,
Of the others the audience their praises to sing.
The limited meaning, of this, that we might snatch.
May well be compared to a boxing match,
In which blood does usually flow,
Before that final bell, ringing, does go.
So perhaps Sumo Wrestling, more civilized may be,
Than other contact sports into the fray be.
The pandemonium is more controlled,
The virtues are equally loudly extolled.
Boxing has a more obstreperous factor,
With each fighter a sportsman and also an actor.

We may wonder in our preposterous thinking,
Particularly if we have been secretly drinking,
Whether a Sumo-Samurai combination would be wise,
A plump warrior swordsman of super-size.
To meet such an opponent would surely be daunting,
Particularly, if a Samurai sword he was flaunting!
Such a notion would be stuff of nightmares,
With damage inflicted beyond most repairs.
So very much sounder and safer me thinks,
To stick to a game such as tiddlywinks.