(A VISIT FROM ST. VINCENT)

by Clement Clarke Moore,

‘Twas week three in the season, and all down the road

Not a creature was stirring, not even a toad;

The pack got all hung up with no QB to play

to the delight of the Seahawks, who made Big Red’s day.

The Norsemen were nestled all snug in their beds

while the T-Vults came playing, and romped on their heads;

And mamma with the kids, and I with my student,

Could not sit for football, ’cause it wouldn’t be prudent,

When out on the TV there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bass lesson to see what was the matter.

Away to the family room I flew like a flash,

And there on the replay, I saw Steve Young get smashed.

The Moon had arisin, but now backs up KC

They say Grbak’s better, but how can that be?

When, what with my wondering eyes do I glimmer,

But the Cheez beat the Hawgs, a former toilet bowl winner?

With two little snakes, oh so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment that Blade would get nicked.

More rapid than roadrunners his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, then put out the flame;

“Now, ASCENCERS! now, NORSEMEN! now, FLAME and the BLADE!

On, HAWGS! on PACK! on, TOADS and, well, actually, that’s it.

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

YOU LOST!

– (big edit here) –

“BETTER LUCK TO YOU ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT.”

From your commissioner Brian, who’s feeling quite sprite.