Welcome, friends. I hope you're well,
I bid you join me for a spell,
Sit by, pipe down and be regaled,
With our beloved city's tale.
I'll tell you through my weak narration,
Of how it met with its salvation,
From Mad Gear's grip its neck was freed,
By one man's most extraordinary deeds.
For years had Metro City's streets,
Been trampled under thuggish feet,
Its dwellers caged with no escape,
From endless murder, theft and rape.
Until a man stood tall and pledged,
To pry away the dagger's edge,
'Twas truly apt the city's prayer,
Be answered by its very mayor.
His homeland sacked, his kin despoiled,
His anger's cauldron overboiled.
All who'd left this city scarred,
Would taste the fist of Mike Haggar!
Outnumbering him they jeered and taunted,
Still he sallied forth undaunted,
Knuckles flew and in a flash,
Of speed and fury came the clash.
As though he were a righteous sword,
He tore unscathed through endless hordes,
Until at last he reached a foe,
That gave him pause. Edi? No!
How could this be, a lawman lured,
By wickedness he'd once endured?
From whence came this? What was the source?
"Money", came his reply. Of course.
But Haggar would not step awry,
All allies of the Gear must die,
If he had donned a traitor's crown,
Then he as well would be struck down.
And would that in a fateful brawl,
Pure heart and grit could vanquish all,
But cowards have their coward's ways,
With musket's muzzles set ablaze.
A tragic victory won that eve,
For Haggar's death we must not grieve,
In proof of his gallant resilience,
His eyes were met with marble brilliance.
As it was penned in ancient scrolls,
Valhalla called to Haggar's soul,
His wings of courage had him flown,
To stand at mighty Odin's throne.
"Long have I awaited thee,
Of boundless strength and bravery.
This day will grant my Einherjar,
A trueborn hero, Mike Haggar
O daring knight, of you I plead,
We in our time of crisis need,
A warrior of finest stock,
To lead the charge in Ragnarok."
The greatest honour, called to aid,
Nay, lead in this divine crusade,
Yet Haggar stood as still as clay.
Was this his choice? Was this the way?
To join the ranks of gods elite,
Would leave his mission incomplete.
Forever would the Mad Gear reign,
And strangle all in bloody chains.
Haggar felt his rage renew,
And in his mind bore witness to,
A vision of his ravaged land,
"No", thought he, "This will not stand!"
The path before Haggar was clear,
His duty was to end the Gear,
And thus he shunned this godly war,
Mayor was he, and nothing more.
A first in history's winding track,
The Aesir shown a mortal's back,
Odin flared, and in his ire,
Cast his gracious veil to fire.
"You, a human, have the gall,
To turn away from Asgard's halls?
What right have you to spurn my rule?
I the god of gods? You fool!
So be it, dog, you will not yield,
And thus your wretched fate is sealed.
By Odin's will, you'll serve your time.
Within the mists of Niflheim!"
And from the sky, a blinding light,
Shook the very earth that night,
A god's descent, his foolish pride,
Crushed 'neath Haggar's steel backside.
And though the battle was well fought,
It does provoke a dreadful thought,
Of champion's husks on darkness fed,
And all their vaunted valour bled.
Had not this man once stood defiant,
Against injustice, a noble giant?
Yet here he lay, his garments stained,
With ink of Franklins ill-obtained.
Are all great men assured to fall,
To gold's beguiling siren call?
Does our hero have his price?
Could he too succumb to vice?
And if from me your waiting ears,
Plaintive eyes and unshed tears,
Seek the answer to these questions,
Whom do you think this tale's about?
Some weepy whelp, a spineless sprout?
Outward bold and inward vile,
A turned coat for a paper pile?
This is not the ballad of Guy or Cody,
Saviours weak and frail and bony,
If you'll think back, and not too far,
Recall that I speak of Mike Haggar!
And so, pursuing evil's scent,
Haggar strode forth, his wrath unspent,
And I, your faithful balladeer,
Cry out in zealous joy, "Round Clear!"