Stormy Weather: brontophobia
The Champ thought Billy’s stormy fears,
Consistent from his childhood years,
Would give him victory. And so
He named one fist for thunder, yo,
The other for a lightning bolt.
So, certain this would give a jolt
To his opponent, he stepped in
The ring. The fight would soon begin.
But Bill had done some therapy
And no more trembled fearfully
In thunderstorms. The final word?
A TKO—there in the third.
So thunder. Lightning. On the mat.
And that, poor fallen Champ, was that!