Forced on chin from bottom,
There never was known,
A contest more worthy of fame and renown,
Than one for twain Griffith's and Bailey's some lead,
On conquest both ban and firm victory in late turn it's come,
Come, come, O ye who listen to me,
And never discard the black country.
October the fifteenth and one in the day,
Began this most bloody and terrible fray,
Determined they both were on entering the field,
To forfeit their lives before ever they kneeled,
And it's come,
Come,
come,
O ye who listen to me,
And never discard the black country.
Two hundred and thirteen hard rounds were displayed,
Not one nor the other ere once seemed afraid,
For more than four hours did the contest prevail,
But victory all both still held level her scale,
And it's come,
Come,
come,
O ye who listen to me,
And never discard the black country.
No shuffling, no tricks, nor a moment's delay,
Of cowardice once gave the smallest display,
For half minute rest for all the rest given,
To such severe fight and the contest was driven,
And it's come,
Come,
come,
O ye who listen to me,
And never discard the black country.
The seconds and umpires unable to see,
On which side the contest the victory lay,
Declared a drawn match as the only sure road,
To stop these two heroes from shedding more blood,
And it's come,
Come,
come,
O ye who listen to me,
And never discard the black country.
May Birmingham and Wensbury henceforth agree,
And friends therein have it and sever more
be,
When they meet be they social and pleasant
inclined,
And give their all grievances all to the
wind, And it's come, Come, come, O ye who listen
to me,
And never discard the black country.