Grown men gliding on razor blades attached to their feet, Slamming into each other at thirteen miles per hour, And occasionally getting into fights Which lands them in the box for five minutes. I think it is the sport which God smiles at For it is the one that most reveals His cautious will And His striving with every one of our movements. There is no reason every one of those men Shouldn't be wheeled out every night in a stretcher. And if that is not evidence of faith, I know not what is.