Once upon a gridiron dreary, while I floundered,
weak and weary,
Over many a scrimmage of forlorn plays--
While I stumbled, often fumbled,
suddenly there I became humbled,
As I grumbled, grumbled at the lousy score,
"Tis a fluke," I muttered, "jumbling my dreamt-of score,
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each member fought to play football in the bowl.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;
-- vainly I had sought to borrow
Better playbooks with which to even up the score--
For the rare and radiant bowl ring,
which the jewelers will make no more--
Superbowl three-five is gone for evermore.
Back into the deep field falling,
wide receivers fruitlessly calling,
Soon I heard the pounding louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely they know not who we are,
The might Giants of New York,--
This game is ours since Days of Yore!
Give this news to those birds of Baltimore!
Quoth the Ravens, "Nevermore."
--
James R. Frysinger University/College of Charleston
10 Captiva Row Dept. of Physics and Astronomy
Charleston, SC 29407 66 George Street
843.225.0805 Charleston, SC 29424
http://www.cofc.edu/~frysingj [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Cert. Adv. Metrication Specialist 843.953.7644
