The boxer stands-
her gloves ready
Her gait sure-
steady
Her eyes aware and to the fore
Her mind on the bout-
nothing more

But deep within, and on her face written
Are the many scars of a life-
hard-bitten
And while never shy of a hard-fought fight
There is no longer within the feeling of delight

Her face has too often been made to pay
By an opponent better on the day
And though within beats -
the heart of a lion
Her poor bruised body has given up tryin’

And while a fighter to her very core
Just the smell of gloves -
now she does abhor

Yet, still she stands, eyes puffed and blood galore

Still ready to wage a girl’s war

As blow after blow upon-
her battered head, does fall
She knows but only one way-
that is the brawl

And though her poor body has long since given in

The Spirit of the “Fighter” -
knows no such thing!
She is a boxer, a female boxer,
Who has proven all wrong.
And gets up,
She stands strong, Fights strong
As the bell rings-
She hears no more dings,

She steps back to her corner, after the bell
For she knows she had fought-
like a bat out of hell
A decision has been reached-
the crowd quiets down
The decision is read-
she has won the bantam weight crown