A Bum in The Boatrace

Two crews were psyched up and ready to strain
Determined to win without quiver or shiver
Expending their strength and commitment of brain
On the oars that cleave through the flows of the river
Lined up and raring to go, the gun fires
Muscles and corpuscles stretched to the max
And the boats start to move with the cox’s desires
To take up the lead with their early attacks

Swiftly they skim through the buffeting waves
Two boats on the water, no space in between,
Surviving and striving, the closest of shaves
As they round the next bend like an oiled machine
Stretched to the limit, eight minutes to go
Advantage is theirs when they reach the next bend
As Oxford start feeling more than status quo
For the final approach to the Chiswick Bridge end.

Surrey behind them, the Steps just in view
But what is that bobbing? A man in the drink?
Decapitation avoided by crew.
The race at a halt and the man off to clink.
It seems that he protests elitism here
It seems he is rich, from an elitist school
And how he can square that is not really clear
He must be from Cambridge – they like to break rules


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