He trails behind the boat that passed,
The motor thrusting water upwards
In a furious foaming throttle,
The waves, they rise, they fall.
Heavy strokes, limbs begin to ache,
Panting in the oily algae,
Bouncing with the bottles,
They rise, they fall, they rise.
Every muscle breeding lactic acid,
His hands clutching for the sky,
They rise, they fall, they rise.
Faster strokes and climbing thighs,
Extending forward, he desperately tries,
His arms, they fall, they rise,
Descending as they cease to crawl,
His body, warmth and smile, they fall.

A crowd throws their hands upwards,
Washing across in tidal size,
Friends, family and country allies,
They fall, they rise, they fall.
Don’t stop now, be strong, be bold,
Take home the silver, bronze or gold,
Fight against the aching cold,
Your every breath carries his call,
He’s stood behind, he’s ten feet tall,
The fall, the rise, the fall.