I heard this song, sung by Michael Cooney, and would love to know the composer of the song:

WINNER

A hulk of a man with a beer in his hand, he looked like a drunken fool and I knew if I hit him right, I could knock him offa that stool
But everybody said watch out, that's Haggerman McCool. He's had a whole lotta fights and he's always come out the winner.

But I'd had myself about five too many so I stepped up tall and proud, faced his back and faced the fact that he'd never stooped or bowed
I said, "Tiger man, you're a pussycat," and a hush fell on the crowd. I said, "Let's you and me step outside and see who's a winner.

Well, he gripped the bar with one hairy hand and leaned against the wall nd slowly stood up from his beer. My God that man was tall
Hae said, "Boy, I see you're a scrapper, so just before you fall, I'm gonna tell you just a little what it means to be a winner.

Well, you see these bright white smiling teeth, you know they ain't my own. Mine rolled away like chicklets down the street in San Antone
But I left that person cursin' nursin' seven broken bones, and he only broke three of mine, guess that makes me the winner.

Now behind this grin, I've got a steel pin that holds my jaw in place, a trophy of my most successful motorcycle race
And every morning when I wake and see this scar across my face, it reminds me of all I got from being a winner.

You know my broken back was the dying act of Handsome Harry Clay, that sticky Cincinnati night I stole his wife away
And you know Son she gets meaner and uglier every day, but I got her boy and that makes me a winner.

You have to speak loud when you challenge me Son, you know it's hard for me to hear with this twisted neck, these migraine pains and this big old cauliflower ear
And if it weren't for this glass eye of mine I'd shed a happy tear to think of all you'll get by bein' a winner

I've got arthritic elbows, I've got dislocated knees from pickin' fights with thunderstorms and charging into trees
And my nose been broke so often I might lose it if I sneeze, Son, you say you still wanna be a winner?

You remind me of my younger days with your knuckles clenched and white, but Boy I'm gonna sit right herer and sip this beer all night
And if you've got something to gain or proove by winning some silly fight, well OK, I quit, I lose, you're the winner.

I stumbled from that bar room not so tall and not so proud and behind me I still hear the hoots and hollers of the crowd
But my eyes still see, my nose still works and my teeth are still in my mouth and you know, I guess that makes me a winner