~*The best Joe Calzaghe v. Mikkel Kessler Pre-Fight Poetic Tributes*~

It's Hammer-time in Cardiff!



His mind disturbed by labyrinthine schemes,
The goatish devil looks aghast,
Whilst dark and unbelievably bad dreams,
Unremittingly now flutter past:



Seeing his stallion stretched tight upon the rack,
And bullied cruelly ever futher back
Against the seething, flamings cords,
Leaves the corruptor, frankly, without words...



His ride, the proud old warhorse, now,
Is clearly cast in statuesque inaction!...
There is no warren now for him to hide,
To find some respite, pause or satisfaction!



Under the rough chastisment of the Viking
The brittle hands of the smitten tired King
Are now in supplication raised,
And, in the Cardiff moonlight, appear brazed
And from too much slap and tickle - pink!



Alas! The sea and waves may not be ordered back,
What's aged and dusted must finally receive the sack!
Therefore acclaim the new Champion of the Ring!
The King is dead! Long live the Viking!​

 

Danish Boxing Day


After the wrangling and haggling it was set for November,
Kessler, Calzaghe a fight to remember.
the moment draws closer, until it's finally upon us.
No more wondering or waiting,
an answer's the onus.

The Dane prepares in his corner, the atmosphere thick,
as Deram gives the final polish to Mikkels' dick.
As the bell for the first round sounds in Kesslers' head,
it still seems to be ringing as reindeer fly across the window,
while he stirs in a hospital bed.

"Why is it Christmas? Did I win the fight?!"
"Will I be showered with gifts this Danes Christmas night?"
Footsteps sound, he thinks, "Jolly St Nick has brought me a gift in his sack!"
He takes the gift, but Doctor Blocky flexes his abs and takes his thermometer back,
"Did I win? Is my fellow Dane proud? Can I shout of my victory, say it aloud?"

I'm afraid you're not well my Danish friend,
you're lucky they stopped it, it was almost your end.
I'm afraid you're a pom now so don't raid the larder,
since all Denmark agrees... Calzaghe's your father.
​

 

'Cross England's Wast Meadows

'Cross England's wast meadows we travelled,
to see how our champion would fare.
Dragonian cloaks he unravelled,
we all saw that nothing was there.

As chieftains of by gones on water,
like vikings we **** and attack.
"look guys, an indigenous daughter!"
"No no, that's just Joe on his back"​

 

Horns of Valhalla

Horns of Valhalla resounded.
Halls of the mighty slain.
Echoes eternally rebounded.
Fallen warriors of disdain.

Arise again warriors of old.
Tonight we drink as the few.
Tales of courage shall be told.
In the morrow, we may die anew.

So it is written, fellow Vikings.
So shall be done, as is the law.
Fate decide, morrow brings.
Recycle pattern once more.

Valor, respect and wisdom true.
Bow deep for thine course.
Lift thine mugs, hail to you.
Stand proud as we are Norse.​

 

Ring-ring

Ring-ring, first round it is
JC starts strong, and Kessler tries to follow
Slap, slap slap, the power is totally hollow.
Gaining ground, but most of them miss.

Ring-ring, 2nd round here we go
More Calzaghe flurries, but Kessler counters good.
For the first time, the welsh is on his backfoot.
Great ring generalship, this is good show.

Ring-ring, 3rd now begin
What the hell? No defence from either man.
Will this see 12 rounds? Must be more for the fan.
Trading shots, who will win?

Ring-ring, 4th slowly starts.
Pace slowing down, not much action.
Was that a KD?, no JC just lost traction.
TV is panning to 5th rows old farts.

Ring-ring, 5th is picking up
Kessler sets the tempo, controlling the pace.
JC seems dizzy, his eyes filled with haze.
The dane wins his first, he should not stop.

Ring-ring, 6th will commence.
The welshman retaliates with lefts and rights.
Definately the fight has reached its heights.
However, Kessler has awesome defence.

Ring-ring, 7th erupts.
We back back with the dane in command.
Endlessly he with jabs on JCs face does land.
Taking count till 8 the ref stops.

Ring-ring, 8th with breathtaking suspence.
Kessler takes a breather, losing his chance.
Calzaghe picks it up, cheers roars from his fans.
The ring champ now shows excellent offence.

Ring-ring, 9th the bell declare.
The viking is back fighting in spurts
Grimace in the face, Mjolnir truely hurts.
Will this be the end of JCs nightmare?

Ring-ring, 10th is here.
Joe is now back against the ropes.
It's not taking a toll, or so he hopes.
Wow, another knockdown, oh dear.

Ring-ring, 11th this is it.
Amazing comeback, JC is a star.
Blazing guns, almost lightning from afar.
Kessler is down, what a remarkable hit.

Ring-ring, Championship round.
The fight back and forth it sways.
oh my, this is pugilistic boxing craze.
These are like two Pacs, final bell sound.

Ring-ring, whose fans will sing???​

 

We'll Travel to Cardiff

We'll travel to Cardiff on that cold, bitter night,
From countries afar - just for this fight,
People of ESB will spend all their hard earned cash,
For the fight of the year and night on the lash

Two gladiators will enter with no defeats to the ring,
The waiting is over... Round 1 Ding Ding,
That's as far as I go so let's forget a prediction,
I've said so many things that it'll be contradiction

They'll pack them at ringside- 10, 20, 30 deep
And be ****ed if I'm sitting in a cheap plastic seat
There'll be celebrities, wannabe's, boxers and golden oldies
And look! Over there! Isn't that Jan Molby?

So let's watch our heros at the Millennium Stadium,
The Welsh and the Danes together look on,
Whatever the night brings, let me make on thing clear,
Afterwards let's go together and drink lots of Brains beer.​

 

Shock and Awe

Hordes of people jumped on the bandwagon
they shouted and cheered on the mighty Welsh dragon
with skills like none other and the speed to match
not many other fighters were as thrilling to watch

But in a small country in Europe to the north
a challeger rose, one of both strenght and worth
he called out the dragon, said "fight me if you dare"
this young viking was a tough man of power and flair

Each fighter claimed proudly, "hes number two, I'm the best"
and the managers bickered - made offers in east and in west
the masses were saddened, thought "this fight will never be!"
but the suddenly one morning the two stubborn men would agree

The night came at last, it was early november
the dragon and viking made it a night to remember
the audience took part, they would scream, they would shout
'cause the epic battle was the most thrilling bout

with a blink of an eye the twelve rounds had all gone
and all in the room wondered who might have won
the man with the mike left us shocked and in awe
I could not believe it, the fight was a draw!?!​

 

Those Fistic Warriors

Intensive Training in Early Morn
Determined to win Both have sworn
To fight like warriors to the bitter end
ALL belts to be won and to defend
The Blood of Vikings Long gone and past
against Elymians Trojans sicilian's last
The outcome is like the rolls of dice
Differing Opinions that stir and entice
The days near to this Collossal endeavour
When These fistic warrior get together​

 

The Ballad of the battle of Cardiff​

When true fans are listening, with eyes that are glistening
To the greatest of boxing’s great tales.
As two pugs did clash, over huge wads of cash
In that faraway land they call Wales.​

That night in November, Do you still remember?
Things started off cautious and slow.
The cheers had abated and everyone waited
For the entrance of Mikkel and Joe​

The stadium was teamin’, with folks who were dreamin’
that their man would come out on top.
Imagine the pain of both Welshman and Dane
If the bout were to turn out a flop.​

The youth of Mikkel, at the opening Bell
Seemed to point to a one-sided rout.
But while Welsh fans looked craggy, they knew that Calzaghe
Had a heart that was stalwart and stout.​

And though neither faction, at the start of the action
Could be sure that their hero would win.
For months they’d been waitin’, no more hesitatin’
They howled for the fight to begin.​

With the crowd in a trance, Mikkel did advance
But Joe was evasive and fast.
Both threw lots of punches, that landed in bunches
At that pace, this just wouldn’t last.​

Cal’s fists were on fire, he must surely tire
No man could keep up such a pace.
But Kessler was tough, and when things got rough
He tattooed Joe’s body and face.​

To much satisfaction, this fight was all action
And Kessler was blazing new trails.
The Welshmen were mute, this Dane was a brute!
They worried, Is this where Joe fails? ​

As round ten had finished, his pace much diminished
the Viking had started to lag.
Batina began, to scream at his man
He’d thought the fight was in the bag​

And the Welsh spirits rose, Joe’s up on his toes
And he’s pressing with power shots galore.
As the punches connected, Mikkel looked dejected.
He can’t take this beating much more.​

Mikkel thought “Thank heaven, I’ve got through eleven”
He pondered the possible score.
He threw out his duke, to try a left hook
But Joe feinted and countered once more.​

The Danes were all hush, as Joe landed flush,
Then threw a hard left to the belly.
The Dane’s jaw was saggin,’ a hook from the dragon
had turned Kessler’s legs into Jelly!​

"What’s wrong with my ear, this street sure looks *****"
Were the last thoughts Mikkel could remember.
The Welshmen all cheered what the Danes had all feared
That fateful night in November!​

When true fans are listening, with eyes that are glistening
To the greatest of boxing’s great tales.
Old China Hand Joe, still tells of the show
Put on by Calzaghe in Wales.​

 

Rumble in the Jungle

The Old Wolf, long of tooth, red in claw,
Master of Grounds, inspiring terror and awe
Amongst creatures great, lowly and famed,
His will to win, recently rather more tamed
Prepared to retire, his bones now to rest,
Never again a strong foe further to test.
“I've done my time, done my bit, done my all!”,
He’d say to himself in the hours most small,
Contented he’d lie in the warm glow of folly
His mind’s eye was painting as pure peerless glory.
Till his ears could no longer shut-out the lip:
“Old Wolf, Calzaghe, you’re beginning to slip!”

With broken paws, what more can you gain?
Natural law seeking out to halt your pain.
What will you do, when predator turns to prey.
Money counts, but legacy has the final say.
You'd fought many a battle to show the might.
Yet trodding quicksand in a land of blight.
No, Old Wolf lick your paws, accept your fate.
New beast roam the jungle, you took the bait.
In the end you might ask, "Could i've done more?"
"Yes, you could, but never did you bore."
Old Wolf, your final song in time is written.
Give the paws a rest, else they will be bitten.

So did the animals speak, so did they spite him,
Pushing him over, boarding his patience to the brim.
No way to hide from their beration, no where to run,
His lonely life now empty of every little bit of fun,
No where to run his conscience upon a greener meadow,
His joyless breast to all past good and proud - a widdow.
Thus drunk with 'passioned hatred at himself and all,
One night, the forest and the starlit sky - all heard his yawl,
As he proclaimed that he would never rest
Until he proved himself again to be the best,
The greatest still, despite his age and lengthy service,
Despite his present ease and confort, wild and tameless.

Age of time repeating itself again; mind refusing to cave.
Stalking for laurals - the promise of tomb and grave.
Untamed as is, keeper of throne, pride guiding his way.
Ultimate fall for king of the jungle, will soon end the day.
Harem of believers churns the Old Wolf's final howl.
Unbeknownst to him, spitting later at his disembowel.
This is the ways for a king; hailed by many out of fear,
only to find the gleaming dagger exposed in the rear.
Claiming he never were the true ruler of woods of green.
Rather exploiter of the weak, not worthy to be seen.
When broken body and mind turns to rotten carcass,
will the righterous reacclaim his stature to the mass.

And thus, young and virile, the young challenger breathed,
The air of his kingdom-to-be, and fuming, he seethed,
Pranced like a master, swaggered and gaited,
And bulging his chest, in one swoop desecrated,
The semblance of peace, of authority unchallenged.
Past grated desires, now bested no more,
His howls the whole forest shook to the core,
Echoing his infinite will, for too long eager and famished,
His desires soon never again to be belittled or vanquished,
The Young Wolf, in masterful might, unleashed a great roar -
No more afraid of his youth, nor his strength, nor his power,
The hour had come for him above all proud now to tower!

​

 

I have posted the ones I thought were the best, in the order they appeared in the thread:

http://www.eastsideboxing.com/forum/showthread.php?t=4480