Muhammad Ali

He floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee Don’t know who I’m talking about? His name is Muhammad Ali In the left corner at the top of the ring Is where Ali resides His opponent’s eyes fill with terror With no place to hide He’ll tell you what round to expect to be knocked And to not be nervous, not to be shocked He awaits patiently standing in his corner Scoping you out to make you look like a foreigner He’s quicker than a cat of any kind, you name it One hook two, jab jab jab that’s how he became famous He’ll knock you out of your shoes and make your face bleed But it isn’t over till the fat lady sings Once the fight is over he remains so calm Not a bead of sweat dripping down his palm Now Ali resides in the middle of the ring Listening to all the fat ladies sing