No pugilistic mauler
Could match the punch she packs.
No mincer, prancer, dancer
Could duck her awesome whacks.
A ringing in my ears
Is not the call to one,
But the verbal onslaught
By which my fate is done.
Punch-drunk I stagger from the ring,
Not content with violent domination
She threatens now to sing!
Fantasia formed, dancing fairy aberration.