I tweaked the alma mater a bit:
On a sorrowed hill in Tennessee
By a field that once stood bright
The crumbling walls of old Neyland
Full o' neglect and o' blight.
So listen up old Tennessee
Currie - we're taking to you
We can't pledge our love or loyalty
'Til the Butch Jones days are through.
The torch has fizzled, has no flame
Our offense stale and bland.
But our hearts have cemented on one name
Bind Gruden to this land.
For, if we hope to rise
Or beat a conference foe
Dear Alma Mater, may we see
Jones gone before his show.