31GuardTrap
Bringing back the basics
- Joined
- Oct 30, 2014
- Messages
- 1,180
- Reaction Score
- 3,128
‘Twas the night before kickoff, when all through the Rent
Not a person was stirring, not even the vents;
The Dogpound banner was hung by the east endzone with care,
In hopes that our students soon would be there;
The players were nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of touchdowns danced in their heads,
And Mama in her fleece, and I in my shorts,
Had just poured a toast to this fall’s sports—
When out on the tarmac there arose such a clatter,
I lept from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the fence I flew like a flash,
Tore my shirt, and got a gash.
The moon on the runway down below,
Gave the appearance of a midnight glow;
When, what to my foggy eyes should appear,
But some guys and their game gear,
With an amped up driver, so lively and macho,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Diaco.
More rapid than wolves his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now! Knappe, now Peart!, now Crozier and Hopkins!
On Levy! On Myers!On Bloom and Davis!
To the field! To the twenty yard line!
Now bury them! Bury them! Make em’ some holes!”
And then, in an instant, I heard a hike
The clicking and clacking of each of their spikes.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the tunnel St. Diaco came with a bound.
He was dressed all in Blue, but a Red sweater,
His hair was perfect, even feathered.
A bundle of pigskins he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a kid, just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they stared! A tad very scary!
His cheeks were like roses, not at all hairy!
His assistant approached and gave him a nod,
And then he took off into the fog.
He sprang to the field, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like that of a missile.
But I heard him exclaim, as he walked with a sway,
“Happy College Football Kickoff day!”
Not a person was stirring, not even the vents;
The Dogpound banner was hung by the east endzone with care,
In hopes that our students soon would be there;
The players were nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of touchdowns danced in their heads,
And Mama in her fleece, and I in my shorts,
Had just poured a toast to this fall’s sports—
When out on the tarmac there arose such a clatter,
I lept from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the fence I flew like a flash,
Tore my shirt, and got a gash.
The moon on the runway down below,
Gave the appearance of a midnight glow;
When, what to my foggy eyes should appear,
But some guys and their game gear,
With an amped up driver, so lively and macho,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Diaco.
More rapid than wolves his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now! Knappe, now Peart!, now Crozier and Hopkins!
On Levy! On Myers!On Bloom and Davis!
To the field! To the twenty yard line!
Now bury them! Bury them! Make em’ some holes!”
And then, in an instant, I heard a hike
The clicking and clacking of each of their spikes.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the tunnel St. Diaco came with a bound.
He was dressed all in Blue, but a Red sweater,
His hair was perfect, even feathered.
A bundle of pigskins he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a kid, just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they stared! A tad very scary!
His cheeks were like roses, not at all hairy!
His assistant approached and gave him a nod,
And then he took off into the fog.
He sprang to the field, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like that of a missile.
But I heard him exclaim, as he walked with a sway,
“Happy College Football Kickoff day!”
