Round 8: The Knockout

People ask me who will be the next heavyweight champion after me, and

I tell them, I intend to hold the championship for eight years, then

I'm gonna give it to my younger brother Rudolph, like the Kennedys

Do in Washington. When I retire, I will become an even bigger

Businessman than I am now. I'm already a big businessman, but I'm

Going to be the AT&T of the physic world. I have a unique product

I sell good boxing, a beautiful body, culture, and the world's most

Perfect face. I'm so beautiful, the girls think I'm Chubby Checker

I am the greatest, I'm too much. When I retire from the ring, I'm

Going into business by making boxers out of other handsome, talented

Cultured young men. If a kid can box, and if he can write poetry

And if he's anywhere near as pretty as me, I'll sign him to a

Contract. I will have a stable of fighters. A coast-to-coast chain

Of Cassius Clays. The flyweight Cassius Clay will weigh one hundred

And twelve pounds, and he will write short little poems. The

Heavyweight Cassius Clay will write long elegies. They all will

Predict things. They will predict that I will be the first man

Elected to the Hall of Fame while I'm still alive. And they won't

Have to put up a statue of me, because I will appear at the Hall of

Fame in person, live, from New York, in living color. Yes, I will

Revolutionize the boxing world, and then I will revolutionize the

Literary world. First, I will get rid of the beatnik poets, and

I will make the world safe for cleanliness. We don't need beatniks

Their poems don't rhyme, their clothes don't match, and they can't

Fight a lick. I saw some of those beatniks doing my poetry reading

In Greenwich Village. One beatnik had bare feet, dirty fingernails

And a long beard. You know, if that beatnik had put on shoes

Gotten a manicure, and a shave, she'd been beautiful. And she had

The nerve to challenge me to a poetry duel. I predicted that I

Would beat that beatnik with one quick poem to the brain, and I

Did. I said, "Little Miss Beatnik, go sit on your seatnik." Now I

Beat her with that short little old poem, and I can write even

Shorter poems. While I'm talking to you, I'm writing the greatest

Short poem of all time. This poem tells how it feels to be as great

As I am. This is it. The greatest short poem of all time. Me? Whee!

That's it, folks, the album's over. Clay had the audience

Dazzled with his superb poetic style, and he hit them

With a lightning poem full of truth and beauty, and

He ended the album in eight rounds. He's the greatest!

Man, they know it. You don't have to tell

Them folks nothin', I'm what's happenin'!