Once upon a Thursday dreary, while we watched all weak and weary,
Sipping Buds of outdated yore,
While I nodded, craving napping, came the sound of fumbles tapping,
And of Giants roughly grabbing, grabbing at Kirk’s balls galore.
‘Tis some nightmare on my big screen, spewing blood and guts and gore –
Only this, and nothing more.’
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak September.
Each separate dying duck pass wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished for morrow; – for football talent to beg or borrow
For relief from secondary sorrow – for D.Hall shan’t come through the door –
To save a defense ever hollow for whom the angels bow in sorrow –
Yet, Hail the Redskins evermore.