This is a satirical poem that showcases a character's fall from rise. Instead of nursing his wound of defeat, he is seen bragging for...
The fallen villain
He fought hard not to be a loser.
I hailed him not.
He that overturned by the opponent's cut.
As he was subdued, 'you are the winner' he said
'I fought you not.'
'I deserved my praise.'
Couldn't he keep mute?
He was not in the least a mule,
Overrun by a horse.
He is a cross-legged lying cock,
In the pool of burning oil, indeed, crowed
What a cock! He was rolled, rolled and rolled.