Cox Poem

A somewhat famous poem about coxes.

Now a Cox is a pox on this world's lovely face,
A boil on the arse of humanity,
They've tortured me through many a race
And driven me close to insanity.
Oh, they all seem quite normal and clever
When they're standing on the bank
But as soon as they hit the water
They become as thick as a plank.
With their up and down, and their in and out
And their steady state for ten,
No matter what they $%*&@? shout
I hate those little men.
I've raced on rivers, lakes and ponds
And on courses that are tidal,
And every cox I've ever had
Made me feel homicidal.
For there are only two kinds that I've ever had
And both of them were a curse,
One kind was the "just plain bad",
And the other the "even worse".
Because a simple trip from A to B,
Is full of thrills and drama,
When they take you all around the world,
Like Vasco De Bleedin' Gama.
With their build it up and their wind it down
And their 'round the turn again
No matter what they $%*&@? shout
I hate those little men.
"You've been dropped. They've gone ahead
Come on lads, feel the pain".
Oh what makes up a Coxes head?
A mouth without a brain.
Now it's only when you win a race
That you can throw them in the river
And not when you're down in deep disgrace
And burning up with a liver.
And when at least you win a race
And yours was the first of the boats,
No matter how deep the water is,
The bastard always floats.
Oh with their up and down and their in and out,
And their steady state for ten,
No matter what they $%*&@? shout
I hate those little men.
So please don't you believe them
When you pulling for that line,
Because when they call "Last 20 strokes",
It's more like thirty nine.
All they can say is "up Up UP"
(When you're already going for broke)
Until your slide turns roaring red
And your arse goes up in smoke.
With their build it up and their wind it down
And their 'round the turn again
No matter what they ever shout
I hate those little men.