Poem - MayGregor

Bell rings
Gloves touch
Fight begins

Backwards Robert Byrd retreats
Forward steps McGregor
With a flurry of punches
Aim'd at Mayweather

Torso and head
His punches cannot find
Writhe with fury
How many rounds can he fight?

Floyd rolling with the punches
Left right down dodging snakelike
With the precision of a surgeon
Waiting to unleash his right strike

Ding, my phone beeps
"F**k the Mayweathers, Mcgregor is gonna win"
I cringed pulling myself together
I'll deal with this idiot later

"Nice!", patrons of the pub cries—
At the yonder TV look'd
As the two men in the ring
exchange hard right hooks

Round 6 things begin to change
Mayweather becomes more proactive
Stepping up his game
Money goes on the offensive

Notorious looks weary
Fatigue'd he begins to peter out
But with the Irish spirit burning strong
He is yet to burn out

Elbows tight chin down
He takes to Floyd the fight
With cuddles and hugs closing the distant
How appropriate for a family night

Alas, with energy depleted
His gloves go down
Seizing the opportunity — with an avalanche of punches
Floyd goes to town

Byrd steps in
The fight is over
Undefeated Mayweather
Remained the winner

I picked up my phone
And shook my head
Punched in a reply
"50-0 enuff said"

Image Source

No disrespect to either fighters, they both did very well.