'Twas the night of the game, and all through the land
The Sooners were chirping, and feeling quite grand;
They had ran up the score every fall Saturday,
They all thought this team the greatest ever to play;
Oklahomans sat perched in stained recliners,
This team would demolish the San Fran 49ers;
Mamma in a faded jersey, and I in my OU cap,
Were ready to watch Bobby give Bill a bitch slap,
Then on the tube arose such a clatter,
The Sooners took the lead, there was nothing a matter.
Straight down the field, they tore in a flash,
Completed by Jones and his 40 yard dash.
Billy Bob high-fived Cletus, slapped ma on the rear,
and yelled, "BOOMER SOONER, now go get me a beer.
They would demolish this team, the old Big 8 doormats,
Cletus yelled out, "Hang half a hundred on these Cats"
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a Wildcat team that was showing no fear.
"These fools", Merlene said, "They don't have a clue,
"We've got Sooner Magic, now pass me a chew".
With a little running back, so lively and quick,
When he broke that first run, they started feeling quite sick.
More rapid than Strait down the field he ran,
But in Bobby they trust, and kept faith in his plan;
"Now, Strait! now, Dvoracek! now Harris and Lehman!
On, White! on Jones! on, Brown and Clayton!
Smack Roberson! Get White back the ball!
Damn those refs, they blew another call!"
Then something happen that caused them to groan,
Ell found Brain Casey at the front of the zone.
Sooner Nation felt ill, they wanted to puke
"Relax", Cletus said, "That was only a fluke."
"We'll score again easy, once we get it in gear
We've only been behind 6 minutes all year"
The sooners they believed just couldn't fall behind,
They just sat there and munched on another pork rind.
Then something happened they could not bear to see,
Ell threw one deep to the arms of JT;
It would not compute in a sooners' feeble mind,
They could not believe it - Their team was behind.
Barely back to the trailer from kicking 'ol Jake,
Sproles took the screen leaving Strait in his wake.
It did not make sense, the Sooners looked spent,
Billy Bob threw his can and gave the finger to Brent.
Halftime came and went, and it only got worse,
Somehow Sooner Magic had become the Stoops curse.
As the game continued and the clock kept on ticking,
There could be no doubt, this was a royal ass kicking.
Roberson and Sproles, Washington, Sims and Buhl,
Made Bobby seem inept, and Mike look like a fool;
Bill Snyder you see, was in fact the true master
He had orchestrated a B C S disaster.
These Wildcats you see, had achieved their main goal,
On the field they claimed the Big 12 crystal bowl.
Champions at last, not a soul could deny,
But I then saw a Sooner, with a tear in his eye.
As with any Cat fan, I always show extreme class,
But what does one say after such a kicking of ass?
Compassionately I spoke, to this Meth Lab Studies grad,
"LET ME QUOTE BARRY SWITZER, 'NICE LITTLE RUN YALL HAD'!"
