Lew Jenkins was nebbish at first look;

on streets he favored Elisha Cook,

the movie stool pigeon's pin up kook.

Big around as a quarter cigar,

if his drinkstraw arms didn't go far

those hamlike fists made others see stars.

They carried twin tickets to dreamland.

Between '39 and '41

this punk lookalike gluttonized fun.

Lew swigged rotgut between round calls,

Starched guys like a drunken wrecking ball.

He toyed with them just about as far

as his 7 planes and 20 cars.

Almost one did Larkin upright keep;

In 3 champ Lou Ambers fell asleep.

Next time in 7 Lou saw ring lights

For 2 Pete Lello made a good fight.

Lew said sayonara to the crown

when Angott whipped him in '41.

Then he took oblivion's express;

his career died from tanktownitis.

In war, he was something else again,

bluffing a room of North Koreans.

Knocking them dead as if in a ring;

Medals of Honor are awesome things.

If Lew's fists became pork and beaners,

his machine gun was World Champion.

ACH GOTT, how Sweetwater Lew could hit!

Copyright ©2002 Daniel Grey Taylor/tech advisor Professor Rafael Tenorio, Ph.D. , Economics Dept. , DePaul University