Tonight I can chalk
Up a first to my name-
In a small town arena
I witnessed a game
Played by men with large cankles
And funny shaped sticks
They knock down each other
But nobody kicks
Because every big foot
Is attached to a rail
That it slides on and glides on-
Smoothly, they sail
On to scramble and scrap
For a dense rubber chip
That looks like a snuff-can,
They crash and they flip,
Trying to get the can
Caught in a trap
Made of stiff twine
And blocked by a chap
With boxes for legs,
A cage on his head,
And fingerless hands-
He falls like he's dead
When the can is before him.
Then when the chip passes into the trap
Some people groan
And some people clap.
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