Float like a butterfly, stung like a bee;

But just what did he mean to you and me?

World heavyweight champ, most likely the best,

Beating all comers, it was no contest.

But his greatest fight was outside the ring;

Stood up for beliefs and what that would bring.

They stripped him of title for a perceived wrong

When he would not fight with the Vietcong.

But when he came back, he beat them again,

Stopping the Rumble with a count of ten.

A boxer he was, also a poet,

Was the greatest and made sure we knew it.

Told us impossible was just a word,

And that the concept was surely absurd.

A man who was known all round the world wide,

And always took all the fame in his stride.

So now he has left us and all the world

Are reminded as his story’s unfurled;

Mourning his loss like the sting of a bee,

A floating butterfly in memory.