Each Sunday, I live for the game,
I know all the players by name,
I have my cold beer,
I'm ready to cheer,
I pray that we're not put to shame.
At halftime, we're slightly behind,
The offense is in quite a bind,
I'm on my fifth beer
and shedding a tear
Brunell has just suddenly gone blind.
In the past, my team was hard hitting,
We choked, from where I am sitting,
My ego's deflated,
My team's over-rated,
Coach Gibbs may as well take up knitting.
