Lay the law in a bludgeon colored straw
Its wake bloody and in pain
Lay waste the nonbelievers, naysayers
Make them run away again.
One with the fist, so easy to miss
Until it touches the chin;
Sticks and stones may split apart bones
But when the going gets tough
Brass knuckles deliver squeak and groan.
The fight is fair weapons or not
By the time they notice the hour is grim
Spinning vision, blood and snot
A little token in the hand, for it is time to get em’.