An Ode to Kano
In days of old,
When knights were bold
And Judo wasn’t invented.
Men wrestled their brother,
In front of each other
And had to be contented.
Then came a wise man,
From the land of Japan,
Who reasoned this couldn’t be right.
He devised his own art,
That took off from the start
When his students all followed the light.
His name was Kano
And he thought, I know,
I’ll call this The Gentle Way
We’ll throw one another
To the ground with no bother
The winner, on his feet, must stay.
And as this won’t hurt,
There’ll be no need for groundwork,
The best throw will decide the winner.
Large or small will not matter,
With no rule book to shatter
It’ll be equal for saint, or for sinner.
So, the best in the land
Decided to try their hand
To become a judo Dan grade.
A black belt they desired,
As their ambition was highered,
But a Kyu grade was what they stayed.
After practice and training
Through sunshine and raining,
After hour upon hour of meditation.
The judoka got his reward,
For his knowledge was broad,
He was applauded for his dedication
So as he studied this noble path,
A question that was often asked,
Do you meditate to control your karmas?
Follow your beliefs with all your heart?
Practitioners of this ancient art,
Or are you just a poof, in white pyjamas?
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