Down by the riverside

The trumpets heralded the start of the champion's race
The competitors bedecked themselves in all colors
Draped themselves in flags of every nation and ambition
Green started auspiciously but ran himself into the ground.
Blue soared into the lead, but found the skies delimit.
Red was steady and came from behind to take the lead.
The spectators scratch their heads they haven't seen him--
He may still be going, no one knows for sure, but all agree
That the crimson soldier fights on in other fields.
Blue one the day only to be showered in cheap sparkling wine.
A madman came shouting.  His genitals were uncovered
His form was scrawny and covered with bristly hairs.
This hill, he said, is but a dung hill and you, my blue friend,
Are the king of shit, rule it as you please;  now leave me to nap.