‘Twas the night before the BCS Championship, when all through L.A.,
None in Crimson were sleeping, they’d been nauseous all day;
The uniforms were hung in their lockers with care,
Alongside the ugly helmets, with only numbers on there.
Mark Ingram was panicked, wearing his Snuggie in bed,
While visions of Heisman bowl losses messed with his head;
Greg McElroy hid in the closet, wearing an SEC championship cap,
Knowing full well by the next night, it wouldn’t mean crap.
When out in the hotel parking lot there arose such a clatter,
The players stopped crying for a moment to see what was the matter.
Away to his window Julio Jones flew like a flash,
Nearly spraining his ankle tripping over all his booster cash.
The moon on the breast of the pavement below,
Gave luster to a crazed drunk putting on quite a show,
With his hairstyle so eighties, his cursing so quick,
They knew in a moment it must be Saban, Nick.
More rapid than eagles his trousers they fell,
As he belched and stumbled, his balance shot all to hell;
“Damn McCoy! And Kindle! Even Shipley and Thomas!
Lord if I can get out of coaching this game, I’ll go back to the NFL, I promise!
We’ll crumble on defense. We’ll turn over the ball!
We made Tebow cry, but now have no shot at all!”
It was clear that the pressure made his judgment unsound,
When out of the Longhorns’ team bus Mack Brown came with a bound.
He was dressed all in orange, from his head to his feet,
It’s the look of a coach who leads football’s elite;
His eyes — how they twinkled! His disposition — so merry!
“Hey Nick, it’s just the Rose Bowl. We’ve never found it too scary.”
He had a broad face and a barbecue-filled belly,
That shook when he laughed at the coach who was smelly.
A wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
Soon gave Bama the feeling that tomorrow they were dead;
“You won the SEC, fellas. So be proud of your work.
But tomorrow your fans’ faces will be removed of their smirk.”
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
They saw his championship ring, knowing they’d never get one of those;
Then he sprang to his bus, which Will Muschamp was driving,
It was clear that the Longhorn program was thriving.
Bama heard him exclaim, ere he rolled out of sight,
“Just remember one thing, boys – we don’t freestyle ‘Texas Fight’.”
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