the toll (1987)

The bell sounds a highpitched dingding and the boxers
Begin bouncing as if on a bed of coals, of all 
Their gestures a stony eyed stare is most intense
As they lunge and jab with fists
Trying to inflict damage on their brother, at
Worst a blackened eye split lip or concussion while in
Tennis, the man with perfect eyesight is
Called a liar, such the civilized game for socialized
Folk who prefer drinks with electrolytes to suds
From a cup

They seldom leave the court with dignity intact,
No pulled groin, though they often retain their jobs
Even after skunking the boss

The matador smiles and flirts his cape over the skull
Of the steaming bull, brushing aside at
The best possible moment, the cape becomes heavy 
With blood not his own, more are hurt in the
Stands from rose thorns, but if that horn
Finds flesh then it is curtains for machismo and what
About the mortgage, what am I doing way down

There by the tolling of a bell where the 
Toll gets took