It was out to California, young Davy Moore was boundTo meet with Sugar Amos for the holding of the crownHe left his home in Springfield, his wife and children pieThe spring was fast approaching, it was good to be aliveHis wife, she begged and pleaded, you have to leave this gameOh, is it worth the bloodshed and is it worth the pain?But Davy could not hear above the cheering of the crowdHe was a champion and champions are proudHang his gloves upon the wall, shine his trophies bright and clearAnother man will fall before we pass the yearFor the fighter must destroy as the poet must singAs the hungry crowd must gather for the blood upon the ringAnd thousands gave a roar when Davy Moore walked inAnother man to fight, another purse to winAnd all along the ringside, a sight beyond compareThe men who owned young Davy Moore were waiting for their shareHe stood there in his corner and he waited for the bellSignal of the struggle of two men facing hellAnd when the bell was sounded, the blows began to rainAnd blows will lead to hate, and hate drives men insaneHang his gloves upon the wall, shine his trophies bright and clearAnother man will fall before we pass the yearFor the fighter must destroy as the poet must singAs the hungry crowd must gather for the blood upon the ringThe fists were flying fast and hard, the sweat was pouring downAnd Davy Moore grew weaker with every passing roundHis legs began to wobble and his arms began to strainHe fell upon the canvas floor, a fog around his brainAt last the fight was over, young Davy fought no moreHe lost the final battle behind a doctor's doorAnd back at the arena, the screaming crowd is goneAnd death is waiting ringside for the next fight to come onHang his gloves upon the wall, shine his trophies bright and clearAnother man will fall before we pass the yearFor the fighter must destroy as the poet must singAs the hungry crowd must gather for the blood upon the ring