The poem
She phoned them when the Round was Eight: 'How is my Joe?' they heard her say. They answered: 'Gee! He's going great, Your guy's Okay.'
She phoned them when the Round was Nine: 'How is my hero in the fray?' They yelled: 'He leads; he's doing fine,-- Joe's sure Okay.'
She phoned them when the Round was Ten: 'Is it still Okay with my Joe?' Reluctant came the answer then,-- No Ma'am, KAYO.