The wrestlers are a sweaty bunch;
Their starving urges they negate
By skipping meals, quite often lunch,
And breakfast, too, to make their weight.
They have no use for basketball,
Or soccer, tennis, holidays,
TV, girls, or volleyball,
Happiness or friendly ways.
Aerobic shape they think the best,
They jog along a six-mile route,
In rubber suits, from east to west
From avenue to round-a-bout.
They often do not go to class,
And courses seem to them a joke,
Yet educated fools en masse
Cheer on these starving, insane folk.