The outlook wasn't brilliant for the champion that day,
The score stood one to zero, with five rounds more to play.
Two years ago he lost the first, and now it looked the same,
The crazy Hawaiian fighter just had way much better game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair.
The rest clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast.
They thought, "if only Matt could but get him to go down.
We'd put up even money now, with B.J. on the ground."
But jab preceded cross, as did also a left hook;
and the champ, his eye was ruptured, his confidence was shook.
So upon that stricken multitude, grim melancholy sat;
for there seemed but little chance of B.J. getting to the mat.
But Matt let drive a right cross, to the wonderment of all.
And B.J. Penn, 'The Prodigy', was now looking very small.
And then the crowd would scream,
and men saw what had occurred,
there was B.J. who was tired and now looking like a turd.
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
it rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
it pounded through on the mountain and recoiled upon the mass;
for B.J., mighty B.J., was clearly out of gas.
There was ease in B.J.'s manner in the weeks before the fight,
there was pride in B.J.'s bearing as he trained but once a night.
And when, responding to the polls, he'd only shrug and smile,
hard training wasn't needed , he would do this B.J. style.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he jumped into the cage.
Five thousand tongues applauded when he stared Matt down with rage.
Then, while the writhing champion let the first sly punch rip ,
defiance flashed in B.J.'s eye, a sneer curled B.J.'s lip.
And now the fight glove-covered fist came hurtling through the air,
and B.J. stood a-watching it in supreme exhaustion there.
Close by the sturdy ref the punch unheeded sped --
"Oh shit," said tired B.J..
"Get up!" McCarthy said.
From the cheap seats, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
like the beating of the storm waves on a stern and distant shore.
With a smile of Christian charity, great Hughes's his visage shone,
he stilled the rising tumult, he bade the fight go on.
He signaled to the corner, and once more the right cross flew,
and B.J. had to eat it, and McCarthy said, "You're through!"
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright.
The trolls are starting bullshit threads, and some people still will bite.
And, somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout,
but there is no joy in Hilo --
mighty B.J. has gassed out.