Cyanide Sid Cooper

He’d punch his opponent
Though punching weren’t allowed
He’d wind up the ref
And he’d wind up the crowd
In his black leotard that only had one strap
You knew you were in for a bit of a scrap
Because his wrestling shenanigans should’ve got him banned
And God help you if you tried to shake his outstretched hand
‘Cos dirty Sid came from Dirty Leeds
Filling your Saturday teatime with dirty deeds
Picking up public warnings for fun
He’d often find himself undone
By two falls, two submissions or a knockout
‘Cos rules really weren’t what he was about
But now it’s goodnight grapple fans from Cyanide Sid
At the end of a heel’s life well lived
With a twisted smile as he’d twist a limb.
If only Spaffer were as honest as him

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