Davey Moore

It was out to California young Davey Moore did go
To meet with sugar Ramos and trade him blow for blow
He left his home in Springfield, his wife and children five
The spring was fast approaching, it was good to be alive
His wife, she begged and pleaded, "you have to leave this game
Is it worth the bloodshed and is it worth the pain?"
But Davey could not hear above the cheering crowd
He was a champion, and champions are proud
Hang his gloves upon the wall, shine his trophies bright clear
Another man will fall before we dry our tears
For the fighters must destroy as the poets must sing
As the hungry crowd must gather for the blood upon the ring

And thousands gave a roar when Davey Moore walked in
Another man to beat, another purse to win
And all along the ringside, a sight beyond compare

The money-chasing vultures were waiting for their share
He stood there in his corner and he waited for the bell
The signal of the struggle of two men facing hell
And when the bell was sounded, the blows began to rain
And blows will lead to hate, hate drives men insane

The fists were flying fast and hard, the sweat was pouring down
And Davey Moore grew weaker with ev'ry passing round
His legs began to wobble and his arms began to strain
He fell upon the canvas floor, a fog around his brain
At last the fight was over, young Davey fought no more
He lost the final battle behind a doctor's door
And back at the arena, the screaming crowd is gone
And death is waiting ringside, for the next fight to come on