'Twas a Chapel Hill Christmas....
Posted: December 2nd, 2010, 11:34 am
From the scout board:
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Dome
not a Tarheel was scoring, they were cold as a bone.
Their jerseys were hung in the lockers with care,
in hopes the Black Falcon soon would be there.
The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of Hansbrough danced in their heads.
Roy in his 'kerchief, coach McGrath in his cap,
had just settled down for a long winter's nap.
When out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
they sprang from their bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the doorway they flew like a flash,
and spotted Will Graves there smoking some hash.
when, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
the fact that the Wear twins were no longer here.
Duke now with Irving, so lively and quick,
Roy saw the future and made himself sick.
More rapid than eagles, his lame *** team came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Dexter! Now Larry!
Now, Reggie and Henson!
On, Leslie! On, Justin!
Prince Harry just listen!
To the top of the stairs!
To the end of the hall!
we're NIT bound if we don't play some ball!"
Roy dressed in light blue, from his head to his foot,
Knew that this team was completely kaputt.
His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the tie he had on had a long way to go.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little bit plump,
on the sidelines he looks like he's taking a dump.
He tried to smile, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know Duke had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
he made up excuses, called ESPN jerks.
He walked to the court, to his team gave a whistle,
And noticed Hensons legs were as thin as a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, though his team has no fight,
"Happy Christmas to all, NIT, we just might!"
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Dome
not a Tarheel was scoring, they were cold as a bone.
Their jerseys were hung in the lockers with care,
in hopes the Black Falcon soon would be there.
The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of Hansbrough danced in their heads.
Roy in his 'kerchief, coach McGrath in his cap,
had just settled down for a long winter's nap.
When out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
they sprang from their bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the doorway they flew like a flash,
and spotted Will Graves there smoking some hash.
when, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
the fact that the Wear twins were no longer here.
Duke now with Irving, so lively and quick,
Roy saw the future and made himself sick.
More rapid than eagles, his lame *** team came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Dexter! Now Larry!
Now, Reggie and Henson!
On, Leslie! On, Justin!
Prince Harry just listen!
To the top of the stairs!
To the end of the hall!
we're NIT bound if we don't play some ball!"
Roy dressed in light blue, from his head to his foot,
Knew that this team was completely kaputt.
His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the tie he had on had a long way to go.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little bit plump,
on the sidelines he looks like he's taking a dump.
He tried to smile, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know Duke had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
he made up excuses, called ESPN jerks.
He walked to the court, to his team gave a whistle,
And noticed Hensons legs were as thin as a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, though his team has no fight,
"Happy Christmas to all, NIT, we just might!"
