GORY GAMBOLS by ANONYMOUS

I LOVE my adversary's leg to kick,
To frisk upon his features with my feet,
Or bunt him in the stomach till he's sick --
All this is sweet.

I smile to hear his collar bone collapse,
Accompanied by his expiring screech;
To crack his ribs is happiness, perhaps,
Beyond all reach.

I laugh aloud when, in the scrimmage wild,
I smash the thigh bone of some lusty boy,
And see him borne off, helpless as a child --
That, that is joy.

My sturdy heel into his spine I jam,
To beat his mouth until he pouts at fate,
To punch him sternly in the diaphragm
Is rapture great.

Than to perceive his manly blood run red
No greater joy can unto me be given;
But at one kick to kick him down stone-dead --
That, that is heaven.

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