'Twas the Night Before scUM. An O-Zone exclusive. (m)


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By buckeye in georgia on 16:14:26 11/19/02

‘Twas the Night Before scUM
buckeye in georgia
11/18/2002

‘Twas the night before scUM, this year in “our” house
Not a creature was stirring,not even a mouse;
The jerseys were hung in the lockers with care,
In hopes that the Buckeyes soon would be there;

The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Tostitos danced in their heads;
And Mrs. T in her ‘kerchief, and JT in his vest,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s rest,

When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
JT sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the tarp covered field
Gave an idea of the weapons he’d wield,
When, what did appear as he shook off his nap,
A little old man with a “Block O” cap,
With very thin lips and a spine piercing gaze,
He knew right away it was “The” Woody Hayes.

The echo of heroes', their courses they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, NUGENT! now, WILHELM! now, KRENZEL and ROSS!
On, GRANT! On, CLARETT! On, GAMBLE and DOSS!
To the top of the B10, to the top of Football!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!

“As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the Horseshoe the coursers they flew,
With a History of Champions and Woody too.

And then, in a twinkling, he heard on the roof
The jawing and pride that gave him the proof.
As he drew in his hand, and was turning around,
Out of the shadows Woody came with a bound.

He was dressed all in scarlet, from his head to his feet, And his clothes were all ironed; as always, neat.
A bundle of victories he showed in his look,
And he resembled an old coach just opening his book.

His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His serious little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the pride in his voice was as pure as the snow;

The stump of a whistle he held tight in his teeth,
An absolute victory was his belief;
He had a broad face and a fire in his belly,
That once in the past invoked an “Oohhhhh, Nelly”

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I admired him greatly, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Filled up the playbook;then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the through the bright light he rose;

He sprang to the shadows, to the past gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
”BEAT SCUM’S ASS TOMORROW NIGHT!”


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