A lot of bull

Through the soaked marshes emerges a stud

Sauntering, his pointed toes through gummy mud

Displaying his wide, patterned, humongous rack

Giving an uprooted stump, a definition smack

He is obviously searching, seeking out trouble

He snorts, nostrils flaring, emitting a bubble

A second stud emerges from out of somewhere

A nonchalant persona, not disturbing the air

His nostrils flare up, in an immediate flash

Unexpectedly, a split second, makes a mad dash 

The confident one contemplates a sudden retreat

The least he wants is to lose, experience defeat

Won every battle while inhabiting this earth

He backs up, humps up, displaying his girth

Lowering his rack, pawing the mud, forges ahead

Could be extremely not worth it, ending up dead

– Autumn Cameron