#2 of the FAILED WRESTLER SERIES
This fellow was named by a consortium of neighborhood kids who were watching me paint in my backyard. Learning from a master, I suppose. Smart children.
This wrestler had eyebrows so bushy
They impeded his ability to see
And shaped like an egg
from head to his leg
He'd always end up on his tushy.
Not my best poem. Bid high, and maybe I could afford to go to limerick school.
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