Float like a butterfly

 

The Ballad of Muhammad Ali

From down in the south in the USA
There came a young fighter called Cassius Clay
As strong as a lion, handsome and tall,
Destined to be the best boxer of all.
‘Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee’,
Clay changed his name to Muhammad Ali.

Known in the ring as The Louisville Lip,
There was no fighter that he couldn’t whip.
With the skill of a poet, a message he’d send,
Predicting the round when each bout would end.
‘Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee’,
There was no fighter like the great Ali.

With the speed of a panther, he would chant with glee,
‘Your hands can’t hit what your eyes can’t see’.
And poor Sonny Liston would find it was true
When he took his title at age twenty two
‘Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee’,
The new world champ was Muhammad Ali.

They said that Joe Frazier was his greatest test,
But Ali would prove to the world who was best.
And then there was Foreman, as strong as an ox,
But no one could conquer that wily old fox.
‘Float like a butterfly sting like a bee’,
There’ll never be another like the great Ali.

Three times world champion was his final score,
A feat that no fighter had accomplished before.
No other sportsman was greater than he,
He was voted the best of the last century.
‘Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee’,
The greatest of all was Muhammed Ali.

“Me. We.”
“Yo. Nosotros.”

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