At the three-point line,
This act is not fine.
Displeasure he has curried,
So the center is clotheslined

Cut off, this flow of air,
Come on, this isn’t fair!
He’s clotheslined, and the swine
Is not even fined.
He took a wicked shot,
By his opponent brought,
And so his team started to scream;
A teeming scene was wrought.

Sea of fighting guys
Gouging each other’s eyes,
But the tall man now needs a hand
After that bad attack,
’cause he can’t stand, they have a plan. . .
Laid flat on his back.

Come on, give him some air,
Clumsy be not, take care,
Give a ride to that man who’s clotheslined, sidelined.
He took a wicked shot,
By his opponent wrought.
He breathes, it seems; the mirror steams,
He’s deemed to have a shot.

To hospital they’ll flee,
The siren will whine.
Get him supine—a gurney for the center who’s clotheslined.
He’ll be fine; get a gurney for the center who’s clotheslined,
Center who’s clotheslined. . . .

[fade on ambulance siren]