Neyland Law Vol
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Poem written by a Clemson fan that is circulating here in SC. We may have sent the OBC to his retirement. :dance2:
No Joy in Cluckville
The outlook wasnt brilliant in Cluckville, on that cold November day,
An early snow had hit the town, and there were Volunteers still to play.
The win over Richt and Georgia was in the distant past,
The losses in the East had mounted, leaving the Cocks in next to last.
Yet as the teams took to the field, the banner still flew high,
The HBC is the best there ever was, through win, or loss, or tie.
The stands were far from full that night, as action got underway,
But soon the spirits began to lift, as the Cocks had come to play.
Through Pharaoh, and Dylan, and Davis, and Wiles, the score began to mount,
Sandstorm played so many times, by half wed all lost count.
Yet a strange thing happened in Cluckville that night, so strange it seemed like a dream,
For every time the Cocks would score, so would the other team.
The 4th quarter came, and the cars fired up, as they are prone to do,
Yet there was hope in Cluckville, as a one touchdown lead became two.
We have the Great One on our side. Certainly hell draw up a play.
To keep the ball from the other team, well just play keepaway.
Yet on that cold November night, the fans let out a gasp,
The HBC has lost his mind. Hes called another pass!
And before the cock could crow again, before the band could chime,
The scoreboard said the score was tied, we were headed to overtime.
Yet still in Cluckville on that night, hope did not disappear.
For the Vols were held to a field goal, and the Gamecocks path was clear.
Davis and Wiles will run it in. Well win with our running attack.
Yet the HBC called yet another pass, which led to another sack.
Still another sack and an incomplete left fourth and twenty-three,
The 58 yarder was nowhere close, and the Vols all danced with glee.
The scoreboard turned off quickly, the players all left the field,
The few fans left were morbid, their preseason hopes had been killed.
The press wanted answers on that night, but instead what they got was a pout,
For the Head Ball Coach is now speechless, mighty Spurrier has struck out.
No Joy in Cluckville
The outlook wasnt brilliant in Cluckville, on that cold November day,
An early snow had hit the town, and there were Volunteers still to play.
The win over Richt and Georgia was in the distant past,
The losses in the East had mounted, leaving the Cocks in next to last.
Yet as the teams took to the field, the banner still flew high,
The HBC is the best there ever was, through win, or loss, or tie.
The stands were far from full that night, as action got underway,
But soon the spirits began to lift, as the Cocks had come to play.
Through Pharaoh, and Dylan, and Davis, and Wiles, the score began to mount,
Sandstorm played so many times, by half wed all lost count.
Yet a strange thing happened in Cluckville that night, so strange it seemed like a dream,
For every time the Cocks would score, so would the other team.
The 4th quarter came, and the cars fired up, as they are prone to do,
Yet there was hope in Cluckville, as a one touchdown lead became two.
We have the Great One on our side. Certainly hell draw up a play.
To keep the ball from the other team, well just play keepaway.
Yet on that cold November night, the fans let out a gasp,
The HBC has lost his mind. Hes called another pass!
And before the cock could crow again, before the band could chime,
The scoreboard said the score was tied, we were headed to overtime.
Yet still in Cluckville on that night, hope did not disappear.
For the Vols were held to a field goal, and the Gamecocks path was clear.
Davis and Wiles will run it in. Well win with our running attack.
Yet the HBC called yet another pass, which led to another sack.
Still another sack and an incomplete left fourth and twenty-three,
The 58 yarder was nowhere close, and the Vols all danced with glee.
The scoreboard turned off quickly, the players all left the field,
The few fans left were morbid, their preseason hopes had been killed.
The press wanted answers on that night, but instead what they got was a pout,
For the Head Ball Coach is now speechless, mighty Spurrier has struck out.
