Elegy For Offensive Production
O Lobo! My Lobo! Your struggles do persist
To watch your offense try to run is akin to a fist
In gut or face, or on the ear, where! Just flip a coin
Perhaps, dear Lobo, the closest choice would be akin to groin
We wait and wait for touchdowns, and yet, there is no score
How many put up larger numbers? One hundred, and six more.
Sir Campanaro struggles on, attempts to muster stock
For drafts and dollars, for fans and team, to be the noblest jock
Yet still it matters none at all, he operates alone
The calls are more predictable than an automated phone
We wait and wait for working calls, no more revolving door
How many slow developing plays? One hundred, and six more.
Oh, for the days of Skinner! Of Marion and Andrews!
Watching now inspires for use on self of hand screws
I dread to call for firings, for loss of livelihood
But the way that things are going, sir, they’re ending nowhere good
How many years on seas of pain until we get to shore?
If this has been a precedent, one hundred and six more.
Want to see a format covered in a future edition? Perhaps even re-imagining a famous poem? Or yes, even a RAP VERSE to a certain beat? It's all in play, but ONLY IF YOU COMMENT BELOW! Thanks for reading, I'm off to go try to forget, and seek further inspiration. Go Deacs.