Merry Christmas Gamecock Poem!

[cockytop]

Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town, Not a Tiger fan was stirring, not one could be found.
Christmas was coming, but no one could care, The stench of defeat still hung in the air.
Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed, While visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head.
He was wearing his cap, which read, "Go Crimson Tide!" And trying to forget how his season had died.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
He stood at the window, his lower lip quivered, The lesson was hard the Ol' Ball Coach delivered.
The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass, Showed Gamecock footprints from the game that had passed.
When, what did he see while adjusting his hat, But a great Cock-a-boose, pulled by ragged, orange cats.
With a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break, Bowden knew in a moment, it must be St. Blake.
The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain, So Blake beat them and shouted, and called them by name.
Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James! On, Stuckey! On, Adams! On, Gaddis and Duane!
We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done, And rub that old rock one more time, just for fun.
As the footballs within the wild "Cock and Fire" fly, Dumbfounding the DB's, as they watch them go by,
Around and around, the poor Tigers flew, With a Cock-a-boose full of Gamecocks, and Blake Mitchell too!
Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the Tigers out back, As they painted poor Tommy's house garnet and black.
As Bowden drew in his hand, and was turning around, The Ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down.
He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin, He had made a new coat from some old Tiger skins.
Several more Tigers, he had flung on his back, Jacoby, Jad Dean and Davis, in fact.
His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry! He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.
Then suddenly above the Great Spectre appeared, The names of all the coaches he had whipped through the years.
The victory torches still smoldered beneath, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy, He knew that next year was not going to be easy.
He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man, And Steve laughed when he saw him, and thought of HIS FANS.
They stood face to face, Bowden wanted to run. He could hear the theme song from 2001.
The Ghost spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan, Leaving Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand.
And raising his visor in salute as on cue, He said, "See ya next year!", and he faded from view.
Blake sprang to the Cock-a-boose, to the cats said, "Let's go!", The Tigers all cried saying, "No, Blake, please no!"
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove through the gate, "Happy Christmas to all, 31 - 28!"

[Lant]

that is great
pts. sent

[WeHailTheeCarolina]

AWESOME stuff man.. pts sent!

[jackdb]

I can't take credit for this, a friend of mine wrote it and put it on her facebook. ENJOY!

Merry Christmas Gamecocks!! (http://umiami.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=2221265017)
share_data={max_recipients:20} Share (http://umiami.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=2221265017&ref=nf#)

by Melissa Murdaugh (http://scarolina.facebook.com/profile.php?id=12603622) (notes (http://umiami.facebook.com/notes.php?id=12603622)) 5:33pm Today

'Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town, Not a Tiger fan was stirring, not one could be found. Christmas was coming, but no one could care, The stench of defeat still hung in the air. Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed, While visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head. He was wearing his cap, which read, "Go Crimson Tide!" And trying to forget how his season had died.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. He stood at the window, his lower lip quivered, The lesson was hard the Ol' Ball Coach delivered. The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass, Showed Gamecock footprints from the game that had passed.
When, what did he see while adjusting his hat, But a great Cock-a-boose, pulled by ragged, orange cats. With a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break, Bowden knew in a moment, it must be St. Blake. The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain, So Blake beat them and shouted, and called them by name.
Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James! On, Stuckey! On, Adams! On, Gaddis and Duane! We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done, And rub that old rock one more time, just for fun. As the footballs within the wild "Cock and Fire" fly, Dumbfounding the DB's, as they watch them go by, Around and around, the poor Tigers flew, With a Cock-a-boose full of Gamecocks, and Blake Mitchell too! Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the Tigers out back, As they painted poor Tommy's house garnet and black. As Bowden drew in his hand, and was turning around, The Ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down. He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin, He had made a new coat from some old Tiger skins. Several more Tigers, he had flung on his back, Jacoby, Jad Dean and Davis, in fact. His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry! He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried. Then suddenly above the Great Spectre appeared, The names of all the coaches he had whipped through the years. The victory torches still smoldered beneath, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy, He knew that next year was not going to be easy.
He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man, And Steve laughed when he saw him, and thought of HIS FANS. They stood face to face, Bowden wanted to run. He could hear the theme song from 2001. The Ghost spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan, Leaving Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand.
And raising his visor in salute as on cue, He said, "See ya next year!", and he faded from view. Blake sprang to the Cock-a-boose, to the cats said, "Let's go!", The Tigers all cried saying, "No, Blake, please no!" But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove through the gate, "Happy Christmas to all, 31 - 28!"

[cockytop]

yea someone emailed it to me..and i thght i would share

[THEsaturdaynightspecial]

THATS HILLARIOUS

[Go Cocks]

Great job!!!!! Go Gamecocks

:kill:

[ultimatetailgater]

Cool, Melissa and her family are part of my tailgate group. I had no idea she was such a great poet.

[jackdb]

its a small world, melissa used to hang out with me and my boys at the college suites.

[Carolinagirl]

Guys-- this is Melissa, I didn't write the poem. Sorry!! I received it as an email, too! I just wanted to share it with all my gamecock friends b/c its awesome. I would love to know who actually wrote this, they deserve all the credit!

[22cocky]

I'll have to give you an atta girl anyway

[ultimatetailgater]

Guys-- this is Melissa, I didn't write the poem. Sorry!! I received it as an email, too! I just wanted to share it with all my gamecock friends b/c its awesome. I would love to know who actually wrote this, they deserve all the credit!

:oops:, Thanks for posting it anyway gave me a good laugh.

[willy]

Very well done my friend. Keep up the good work.

[Snake]

Subject: Twas the month before Christmas

'Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town,
Not a Tiger fan was stirring, not one couldbe found.


Christmas was coming, but no one could care,
The stench of defeat still hung in the air.


Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed,
While visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head.


He was wearing his cap, which read, "Go Crimson Tide!"
And trying to forget how his season had died.


When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.


He stood at the window, his lower lip quivered,
The lesson was hard the Ol' Ball Coach delivered.


The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass,
Showed Gamecock footprints from the game that had passed.


When, what did he see while adjusting his hat,
But a great Cock-a-boose, pulled by ragged, orange cats.


With a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break,
Bowden knew in a moment, it must be St. Blake.


The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain,
So Blake beat them and shouted, and called them by name.


Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James!
On, Stuckey! On, Adams! On, Gaddis and Duane!


We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done,
And rub that old rock one more time, just for fun.


As the footballs within the wild "Cock and Fire" fly,
Dumbfounding the DB's, as they watch them go by,


Around and around, the poor Tigers flew,
With a Cock-a-boose full of Gamecocks,
and Blake Mitchell too!


Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the Tigers out back,
As they painted poor Tommy's house garnet and black.


As Bowden drew in his hand, and was turning around,
The Ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down.


He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin,
He had made a new coat from some old Tiger skins.


Several more Tigers, he had flung on his back,
Jacoby, Jad Dean and Davis, in fact.


His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry!
He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.


Then suddenly above the Great Spectre appeared,
The names of all the coaches he had whipped through the years.


The victory torches still smoldered beneath,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.


But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy,
He knew that next year was not going to be easy.


He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man,
And Steve laughed when he saw him, and thought of HIS FANS.


They stood face to face, Bowden wanted to run.
He could hear the theme song from 2001.


The Ghost spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan,
Leaving Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand.


And raising his visor in salute as on cue,
He said, "See ya next year!", and he faded from view.


Blake sprang to the Cock-a-boose, to the cats said, "Let's go!",
The Tigers all cried saying, "No, Blake, please no!"


But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove through the gate,
"Happy Christmas to all, 31 - 28!"

[gamecockgal]

THIS DESERVES A BUMP AND A STICKY MODS!!!


*points sent*

[SangareeMike]

I wish I could say I wrote this, but alas, I didn't. Still a good read.

'Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town, Not a Tiger
fan was stirring, not one could be found.
Christmas was coming, but no one could care, The stench of defeat still
hung in the air.
Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed, While visions of Gamecocks
still danced in his head.
He was wearing his cap, which read, "Go Crimson Tide!" And trying to
forget how his season had died.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, He sprang from the bed
to see what was the matter.
He stood at the window, his lower lip quivered, The lesson was hard the
Ol' Ball Coach delivered.
The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass, Showed Gamecock
footprints from the game that had passed.
When, what did he see while adjusting his hat, But a great Cock-a-boose,
pulled by ragged, orange cats.
With a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break, Bowden knew in a
moment, it must be St. Blake.
The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain, So Blake beat them
and shouted, and called them by name.
Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James! On, Stuckey! On, Adams!
On, Gaddis and Duane!
We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done, And rub that old
rock one more time, just for fun.
As the footballs within the wild "Cock and Fire" fly, Dumbfounding the
DB's, as they watch them go by, Around and around, the poor Tigers flew,
With a Cock-a-boose full of Gamecocks, and Blake Mitchell too!
Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the Tigers out back, As they painted
poor Tommy's house garnet and black.
As Bowden drew in his hand, and was turning around, The Ghost of Steve
Spurrier was seen floating down.
He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin, He had made a new
coat from some old Tiger skins.
Several more Tigers, he had flung on his back, Jacoby, Jad Dean and
Davis, in fact.
His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry! He was
thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.
Then suddenly above the Great Spectre appeared, The names of all the
coaches he had whipped through the years.
The victory torches still smoldered beneath, And the smoke it encircled
his head like a wreath.
But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy, He knew that next
year was not going to be easy.
He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man, And Steve laughed
when he saw him, and thought of HIS FANS.
They stood face to face, Bowden wanted to run. He could hear the theme
song from 2001.
The Ghost spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan, Leaving
Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand.
And raising his visor in salute as on cue, He said, "See ya next year!",
and he faded from view.
Blake sprang to the Cock-a-boose, to the cats said, "Let's go!", The
Tigers all cried saying, "No, Blake, please no!"
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove through the gate, "Happy Christmas
to all, 31 - 28!"

[SangareeCrew]

Very good!!!!!

[GamecockFan7689]

Oh man you gotta love this.

[simplesimon]

Man thats a great poem. Almost brings a tear to my eye.:lol:

[MEGA]

Dan Scott just said he was going to read this poem on his show, someone had sent it to him, he said Clemson fans would not like it , but he found it to be cute !! Hes on 104.9 FM, here in Greenville !

[cockfan06]

He is reading it now to end his show... :lol: Sorry, twas the month before Christmas...

[COCKSHAFT]

that is AWESOME !

[cockfan06]

CH, Guess this should be moved to Smack. Sorry. He wasnt't stupid about it, he read it then went off the air. He wasnt given the Clemson fans a chance to call in about it. lol:rotfl:

[gvegas06]

I just listened to it and he laughed a few times while reading it....i also heard somebody laughing in the background.....he warned clemson fans to turn off the radio or change the station for a few b/c he told them they wouldn't want to hear it....either way its great b/c it rubbed it in to thousands of clemson all at the same time!

[cockfan06]

He said he read it for a Gamecock friend... hummm... wonder if its someone one we know here? Maybe a mod. from the upstate... lol

[snoopcockycock]

this should be put on a billboard somewhere in cowtown!!!!



>..To be posted on everyones fridge over the beautiful holidays!....



>'Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town,
>
>Not a Tiger fan was stirring, not one could be found.
>
>Christmas was coming, but no one could care,
>
>the stench of defeat still hung in the air.
>
>Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed,
>
>while visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head.
>
>He was wearing his cap, which read, "Go Crimson Tide!"
>
>And trying to forget how his season had died.
>
>When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
>
>He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
>
>He stood at the window, his lower lip quivered,
>
>The lesson was hard the Ol' Ball Coach delivered.
>
>The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass,
>
>Showed Gamecock footprints from the game that had passed.
>
>When, what did he see while adjusting his hat,
>
>But a great Cock-a-boose, pulled by ragged, orange cats.
>
>With a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break,
>
>Bowden knew in a moment, it must be St. Blake.
>The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain,
>
>So Blake beat them and shouted, and called them by name.
>Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James!
>
>On, Stuckey! On, Adams! On, Gaddis and Duane!
>We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done,
>
>And rub that old rock one more time, just for fun.
>As the footballs within the wild "Cock and Fire" fly,
>
>Dumbfounding the DB's, as they watch them go by,
>
>Around and around, the poor Tigers flew,
>
>With a Cock-a-boose full of Gamecocks, and Blake Mitchell too!
>Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the Tigers out back,
>
>As they painted poor Tommy's house garnet and black.
>As Bowden drew in his hand, and was turning around,
>
>The Ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down.
>He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin,
>
>He had made a new coat from some old Tiger skins.
>Several more Tigers, he had flung on his back,
>
>Jacoby, Jad Dean and Davis, in fact.
>His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry!
>
>He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.
>Then suddenly above the Great Spectre appeared,
>
>The names of all the coaches he had whipped through the years.
>
>The victory torches still smoldered beneath,
>
>And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
>But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy,
>
>He knew that next year was not going to be easy.
>He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man,
>
>And Steve laughed when he saw him, and thought of HIS FANS.
>They stood face to face, Bowden wanted to run.
>
>He could hear the theme song from 2001.
>The Ghost spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan,
>
>Leaving Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand.
>And raising his visor in salute as on cue,
>
>He said, "See ya next year!", and he faded from view.
>Blake sprang to the Cock-a-boose, to the cats said, "Let's go!",
>
>The Tigers all cried saying, "No, Blake, please no!"
>
>But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove through the gate,
>
>"Happy Christmas to all, 31 - 28!"
>

[FutureMember]

'Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town,
Not a Tiger fan was stirring, not one could be found.
Christmas was coming, but no one could care,
the stench of defeat still hung in the air.
Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed,
while visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head.
He was wearing his cap, which read, "Go Crimson Tide!"
And trying to forget how his season had died.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
He stood at the window, his lower lip quivered,
The lesson was hard the Ol' Ball Coach delivered.
The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass,
Showed Gamecock footprints from the game that had passed.
When, what did he see while adjusting his hat,
But a great Cock-a-boose, pulled by ragged, orange cats.
With a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break,
Bowden knew in a moment, it must be St. Blake.
The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain,
So Blake beat them and shouted, and called them by name.
Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James!
On, Stuckey! On, Adams! On, Gaddis and Duane!
We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done,
And rub that old rock one more time, just for fun.
As the footballs within the wild "Cock and Fire" fly,
Dumbfounding the DB's, as they watch them go by,
Around and around, the poor Tigers flew,
With a Cock-a-boose full of Gamecocks, and Blake Mitchell too!
Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the Tigers out back,
As they painted poor Tommy's house garnet and black.
As Bowden drew in his hand, and was turning around,
The Ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down.
He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin,
He had made a new coat from some old Tiger skins.
Several more Tigers, he had flung on his back,
Jacoby, Jad Dean and Davis, in fact.
His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry!
He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.
Then suddenly above the Great Spectre appeared,
The names of all the coaches he had whipped through the years.
The victory torches still smoldered beneath,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy,
He knew that next year was not going to be easy.
He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man,
And Steve laughed when he saw him, and thought of HIS FANS.
They stood face to face, Bowden wanted to run.
He could hear the theme song from 2001.
The Ghost spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan,
Leaving Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand.
And raising his visor in salute as on cue,
He said, "See ya next year!", and he faded from view.
Blake sprang to the Cock-a-boose, to the cats said, "Let's go!",
The Tigers all cried saying, "No, Blake, please no!"
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove through the gate,
"Merry Christmas to all, 31 - 28!”

[phutch]

" We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done,
And rub that old rock one more time, just for fun."

unfortunately for Blake at least, that's not exactly true. I wish he could stick around for one more year and give the Tigers the beating they should have received this year

[COCKDIESEL]

That is probably the greatest thing I have ever read.

[carolinafan53186]

I love it but the tiger eulogy is the best thing I've ever read

[cockyhoskins]

Alright guys, it's been posted about 20 times. Next time I'm deleting. Please use the search function; it is your friend. :lol:

[GamecockALAN]

Not sure if this one has been posted or not. Enjoy.

'Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town,

Not a Tiger fan was stirring, not one could be found.

Christmas was coming, but no one could care,

the stench of defeat still hung in the air.

Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed,

while visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head.

He was wearing his cap, which read, "Go Crimson Tide!"

And trying to forget how his season had died.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

He stood at the window, his lower lip quivered,

The lesson was hard the Ol' Ball Coach delivered.

The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass,

Showed Gamecock footprints from the game that had passed.

When, what did he see while adjusting his hat,

But a great Cock-a-boose, pulled by ragged, orange cats.

With a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break,

Bowden knew in a moment, it must be St. Blake.
The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain,

So Blake beat them and shouted, and called them by name.
Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James!

On, Stuckey! On, Adams! On, Gaddis and Duane!
We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done,

And rub that old rock one more time, just for fun.
As the footballs within the wild "Cock and Fire" fly,

Dumbfounding the DB's, as they watch them go by,

Around and around, the poor Tigers flew,

With a Cock-a-boose full of Gamecocks, and Blake Mitchell too!
Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the Tigers out back,

As they painted poor Tommy's house garnet and black.
As Bowden drew in his hand, and was turning around,

The Ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down.
He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin,

He had made a new coat from some old Tiger skins.
Several more Tigers, he had flung on his back,

Jacoby, Jad Dean and Davis, in fact.
His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry!

He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.
Then suddenly above the Great Spectre appeared,

The names of all the coaches he had whipped through the years.

The victory torches still smoldered beneath,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy,

He knew that next year was not going to be easy.
He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man,

And Steve laughed when he saw him, and thought of HIS FANS.
They stood face to face, Bowden wanted to run.

He could hear the theme song from 2001.
The Ghost spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan,

Leaving Tanneyhill bobble heads for all those at hand.
And raising his visor in salute as on cue,

He said, "See ya next year!", and he faded from view.
Blake sprang to the Cock-a-boose, to the cats said, "Let's go!",

The Tigers all cried saying, "No, Blake, please no!"

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove through the gate,

"Happy Christmas to all, 31 - 28!"

[egnarts]

Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town,
Not a Tiger fan was stirring, not one could be found.
Christmas was coming, but no one could care,
the stench of defeat still hung in the air.
Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed,
while visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head.
He was wearing his cap, which read, " Go Crimson Tide! "
And trying to forget how his season had died.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
He sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
He stood at the window, his lower lip quavered,
the lesson was hard the Ol' Ball Coach delivered.
The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass,
showed Gamecock footprints from the game that had passed.
When what did he see while adjusting his hat,
but a great Cock-a-boose, pulled by ragged orange cats.
with a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break,
Bowden knew in a moment, it must be St Blake.
The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain,
so Blake beat them and shouted, and called them by name.
Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James!
On, Stuckey! On, Adams! On, Gaddis and Duane!
We'll ride through the Valley again fore I'm done,
and rub that old rock one more time, just for fun.
As the footballs within the wild " Cock and Fire " fly,
dumbfounding the DB's, as they watch them go by.
Around and around, the poor Tigers flew,
with a Cock-a-boose full of Gamecocks, and Blake Mitchell too!
Then the Gamecocks stood guard oer the Tigers out back,
as they painted poor Tommy's house garnet and black.
As Bowden drew in his head, and was turning around,
the ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down.
He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin,
He had made a new coat from some old Tiger skins.
Several more Tigers, he had flung on his back,
Jacoby, Jad Dean and Davis, in fact.
His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenaance - how merry!
He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.
Then suddenly above the Great Spectre appeared,
the names of all the coaches he had whipped through the years.
The victory torches still smoldered beneath,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy,
He knew that next year was not going to be easy.
he was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man,
and Steve laughed when he saw him, and thought of his fans.
They stood face to face, Bowden wanted to run,
He could hear the theme song from 2001.
The ghost spoke not a word, but went sraight to his plan,
leaving Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand.
And raising his visor in salute as on cue,
He said " See ya next year " and he faded from view.
Blake sprang to the Cock-a boose, to the cats said, " Let's Go "
The Tigers all cried saying, " No, Blake, please no! "
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove through the gate,
Happy Christmas to all, 31-28! "

anon

[CarolinaGirl1]

Merry Christmas Gamecock Fans! I know it's a lot, but read all the way to the bottom! :happycoc:

'Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town, Not a Tiger fan was stirring, not one could be found.
Christmas was coming, but no one could care, The stench of defeat still hung in the air.
Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed, While visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head.
He was wearing his cap, which read, "Go Crimson Tide!" And trying to forget how his season had died.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
He stood at the window, his lower lip quivered, The lesson was hard the Ol' Ball Coach delivered.
The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass, Showed Gamecock footprints from the game that had passed.
When, what did he see while adjusting his hat, But a great Cock-a-boose, pulled by ragged, orange cats.
With a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break, Bowden knew in a moment, it must be St. Blake.
The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain, So Blake beat them and shouted, and called them by name.
Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James! On, Stuckey! On, Adams! On, Gaddis and Duane!
We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done, And rub that old rock one more time, just for fun.
As the footballs within the wild "Cock and Fire" fly, Dumbfounding the DB's, as they watch them go by,
Around and around, the poor Tigers flew, With a Cock-a-boose full of Gamecocks, and Blake Mitchell too!
Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the Tigers out back, As they painted poor Tommy's house garnet and black.
As Bowden drew in his hand, and was turning around, The Ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down.
He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin, He had made a new coat from some old Tiger skins.
Several more Tigers, he had flung on his back, Jacoby, Jad Dean and Davis, in fact.
His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry! He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.
Then suddenly above the Great Spectre appeared, The names of all the coaches he had whipped through the years.
The victory torches still smoldered beneath, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy, He knew that next year was not going to be easy.
He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man, And Steve laughed when he saw him, and thought of HIS FANS.
They stood face to face, Bowden wanted to run. He could hear the theme song from 2001.
The Ghost spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan, Leaving Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand.
And raising his visor in salute as on cue, He said, "See ya next year!", and he faded from view.
Blake sprang to the Cock-a-boose, to the cats said, "Let's go!", The Tigers all cried saying, "No, Blake, please no!"
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove through the gate, "Happy Christmas to all, 31 - 28!"

[WeHailTheeCarolina]

If The Month Before Christmas was a poster, his post count would be 32...

Seriously how many times has this been posted?

[cockyhoskins]

merging AGAIN

It's funny how this thread has 36 posts and 30 of them are the actual poem being merged in.

[ultimatetailgater]

Ya this is getting old. USE THE SEARCH BUTTON!!!

[carolinagirl14]

"'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the town, not a tiger fan was stirring.. not one could be found. Christmas was coming, but no one could care - the stench of defeat still hung in the air. Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed, while visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head. He was wearing his cap, which read, 'Go Crimson Tide!' and trying to forget how his season had died. When, out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter. He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass showed Gamecock footprints from the game that had passed. When, what did he see while adjusting his hat, but a great Cock-a-Boose pulled by ragged, orange cats.. with a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break. Bowden knew in a moment - it must be St. Blake.

The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain, so Blake beat them and shouted and called them by name: 'Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James! On, Stuckey! On, Adams! On, Gaddis and Duane! We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done and rub that old rock one more time just for fun!' Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the tigers out back as they painted poor Tommy's house garnet and black. As Bowden drew in his hand and was turning around, the ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down. He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin; he had made a new coat from some old tiger skins. Several more tigers he had flung on his back - Jacoby, Jad Dean, and Davis, in fact. His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry! He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.

But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy. He knew that next year was not going to be easy. He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man, and Steve laughed when he saw him and thought of his fans. They stood face-to-face, Bowden wanted to run.. he could hear the theme song from 2001. The ghost spoke not a word but went straight to his plan, leaving Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand. And raising his visor in salute, as on cue, he said, 'See ya next year!' and he faded from view. Blake sprang to the Cock-a-Boose and to the cats said, 'Let's go!' The tigers all cried, saying, 'No, Blake! Please, no!' But I heard him exclaim, as he drove though the gate, 'Happy Christmas to all! 31-28!!!'"

[USCya]

Welcome to the board CarolinaGirl14...

[cack™]

Alright guys, it's been posted about 20 times. Next time I'm deleting. Please use the search function; it is your friend. :lol:

apparently NOT :thumbs:

[jedburggamecock]

'Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town,
Not a Tiger fan was stirring, not one could be found.
Christmas was coming, but no one could care,
The stench of defeat still hung in the air.

Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed,
While visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head.
He was wearing his cap, which read, "Go Crimson Tide!"
And trying to forget how his season had died.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
He stood at the window, his lower lip quivered,
The lesson was hard the Ol' Ball Coach delivered.

The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass,
Showed Gamecock footprints from the game that had passed.
When, what did he see while adjusting his hat,
But a great Cock-a-boose, pulled by ragged, orange cats.

With a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break,
Bowden knew in a moment, it must be St. Blake.
The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain,
So Blake beat them and shouted, and called them by name.

Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James!
On, Stuckey! On, Adams! On, Gaddis and Duane!
We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done,
And rub that old rock one more time, just for fun.

As the footballs within the wild "Cock and Fire" fly,
Dumbfounding the DB's, as they watch them go by,
Around and around, the poor Tigers flew,
With a Cock-a-boose full of Gamecocks, and Blake Mitchell too!

Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the Tigers out back,
As they painted poor Tommy's house garnet and black.
As Bowden drew in his hand, and was turning around,
The Ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down.

He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin,
He had made a new coat from some old Tiger skins.
Several more Tigers, he had flung on his back,
Jacoby, Jad Dean and Davis, in fact.

His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry!
He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.
Then suddenly above the Great Spectre appeared,
The names of all the coaches he had whipped through the years.

The victory torches still smoldered beneath,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy,
He knew that next year was not going to be easy.

He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man,
And Steve laughed when he saw him, and thought of HIS FANS.
They stood face to face, Bowden wanted to run.
He could hear the theme song from 2001.

The Ghost spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan,
Leaving Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand.
And raising his visor in salute as on cue,
He said, "See ya next year!", and he faded from view.

Blake sprang to the Cock-a-boose, to the cats said, "Let's go!",
The Tigers all cried saying, "No, Blake, please no!"
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove through the gate,
"Happy Christmas to all, 31 - 28!"
:kill:

[cockyhoskins]

Congrats to cockytop for being the first to post the most posted thread in CockyTalk history. I'm deleting from now on. I think 30 repeats is plenty. :lol:

Search really is a useful function on this board.

[The Dude]

Congrats to cockytop for being the first to post the most posted thread in CockyTalk history.

is it really or are you just being funny?

[SNEEZ]

thsi sis the 30th time this poem has been posted. lol

[Snake]

I think I have it memorized now!:rotfl: JK

[Cruzer]

Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town, Not a
> > Tiger fan was stirring, not one could be found.
> >
> > Christmas was coming, but no one could care, The stench of defeat
> > still hung in the air. Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed,
> > While visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head.
> > He was wearing his cap, which read, "Go Crimson Tide!" And trying to

> > forget
> > how his season had died.
> > When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, He sprang from the
bed to
> > see what was the matter.
> > He stood at the window, his lower lip quivered, The lesson was hard
the
> > Ol'
> > Ball Coach delivered.
> > The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass, Showed Gamecock
> > footprints from the game that had passed.
> > When, what did he see while adjusting his hat, But a great
Cock-a-boose,
> > pulled by ragged, orange cats.
> > With a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break, Bowden knew in
a
> > moment, it must be St. Blake.
> > The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain, So Blake beat
them and
> > shouted, and called them by name.
> > Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James! On, Stuckey! On,
Adams! On,
> > Gaddis and Duane!
> > We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done, And rub that old
rock
> > one more time, just for fun.
> > As the footballs within the wild "Cock and Fire" fly, Dumbfounding
the
> > DB's, as they watch them go by,
> > Around and around, the poor Tigers flew, With a Cock-a-boose full of
> > Gamecocks, and Blake Mitchell too!
> > Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the Tigers out back, As they
painted
> > poor Tommy's house garnet and black.
> > As Bowden drew in his hand, and was turning around, The Ghost of
Steve
> > Spurrier was seen floating down.
> > He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin, He had made a
new
> > coat
> > from some old Tiger skins.
> > Several more Tigers, he had flung on his back, Jacoby, Jad Dean and
Davis,
> > in fact.
> > His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry! He was
thinking
> > of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.
> > Then suddenly above the Great Spectre appeared, The names of all the
> > coaches he had whipped through the years.
> > The victory torches still smoldered beneath, And the smoke it
encircled
> > his
> > head like a wreath.
> > But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy, He knew that
next
> > year was not going to be easy.
> > He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man, And Steve laughed
when
> > he saw him, and thought of HIS FANS.
> > They stood face to face, Bowden wanted to run. He could hear the
theme
> > song
> > from 2001.
> > The Ghost spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan, Leaving
> > Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand.
> > And raising his visor in salute as on cue, He said, "See ya next
year!",
> > and he faded from view.
> > Blake sprang to the Cock-a-boose, to the cats said, "Let's go!", The

> > Tigers
> > all cried saying, "No, Blake, please no!"
> > But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove through the gate, "Happy
Christmas
> > to
> > all, 31 - 28!
> >
> >

[Spur's Addiction]

Now the 31st time. Thats gotta be a record!

[Dietz]

oustanding!

[The Dude]

BRILLIANT!

[behindenemylines]

I am not sure if this is posted or not, but I just received it Enjoy!

Twas the Month Before Christmas

'Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town, Not a Tiger fan was stirring, not one could be found.

Christmas was coming, but no one could care, The stench of defeat still hung in the air.

Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed, While visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head.

He was wearing his cap, which read, "Go Crimson Tide!" And trying to forget how his season had died.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

He stood at the window, his lower lip quivered, The lesson was hard the Ol' Ball Coach delivered.

The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass, Showed Gamecock footprints from the game that had passed.

When, what did he see while adjusting his hat, But a great Cock-a-boose, pulled by ragged, orange cats.

With a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break, Bowden knew in a moment, it must be St. Blake.

The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain, So Blake beat them and shouted, and called them by name.

Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James! On, Stuckey! On, Adams! On, Gaddis and Duane!

We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done, And rub that old rock one more time, just for fun.

As the footballs within the wild "Cock and Fire" fly, Dumbfounding the DB's, as they watch them go by,

Around and around, the poor Tigers flew, With a Cock-a-boose full of Gamecocks, and Blake Mitchell too!

Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the Tigers out back, As they painted poor Tommy's house garnet and black.

As Bowden drew in his hand, and was turning around, The Ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down.

He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin, He had made a new coat from some old Tiger skins.

Several more Tigers, he had flung on his back, Jacoby, Jad Dean and Davis, in fact.

His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry! He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.

Then suddenly above the Great Spectre appeared, The names of all the coaches he had whipped through the years.

The victory torches still smoldered beneath, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy, He knew that next year was not going to be easy.

He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man, And Steve laughed when he saw him, and thought of HIS FANS.

They stood face to face, Bowden wanted to run. He could hear the theme song from 2001.

The Ghost spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan, Leaving Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand.

And raising his visor in salute as on cue, He said, "See ya next year!", and he faded from view.

Blake sprang to the Cock-a-boose, to the cats said, "Let's go!", The Tigers all cried saying, "No, Blake, please no!"

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove through the gate, "Happy Christmas to all, 31 - 28!":football: :kill:

[SolidifieD]

Yep, it's been posted a couple times I think. Still funny, though.

[Spur's Addiction]

It's been posted about 30 times. I'll merge it in with the others. I thinks it's a record!

[the_ultimatethrill]

Posted on a facebook group can't spell U suck with out CU

'Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town, Not a Tiger fan was stirring, not one could be found.
Christmas was coming, but no one could care, The stench of defeat still hung in the air.
Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed, While visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head.
He was wearing his cap, which read, "Go Crimson Tide!" And trying to forget how his season had died.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
He stood at the window, his lower lip quivered, The lesson was hard the Ol' Ball Coach delivered.
The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass, Showed Gamecock footprints from the game that had passed.
When, what did he see while adjusting his hat, But a great Cock-a-boose, pulled by ragged, orange cats.
With a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break, Bowden knew in a moment, it must be St. Blake.
The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain, So Blake beat them and shouted, and called them by name.
Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James! On, Stuckey! On, Adams! On, Gaddis and Duane!
We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done, And rub that old rock one more time, just for fun.
As the footballs within the wild "Cock and Fire" fly, Dumbfounding the DB's, as they watch them go by,
Around and around, the poor Tigers flew, With a Cock-a-boose full of Gamecocks, and Blake Mitchell too!
Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the Tigers out back, As they painted poor Tommy's house garnet and black.
As Bowden drew in his hand, and was turning around, The Ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down.
He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin, He had made a new coat from some old Tiger skins.
Several more Tigers, he had flung on his back, Jacoby, Jad Dean and Davis, in fact.
His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry! He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.
Then suddenly above the Great Spectre appeared, The names of all the coaches he had whipped through the years.
The victory torches still smoldered beneath, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy, He knew that next year was not going to be easy.
He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man, And Steve laughed when he saw him, and thought of HIS FANS.
They stood face to face, Bowden wanted to run. He could hear the theme song from 2001.
The Ghost spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan, Leaving Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand.
And raising his visor in salute as on cue, He said, "See ya next year!", and he faded from view.
Blake sprang to the Cock-a-boose, to the cats said, "Let's go!", The Tigers all cried saying, "No, Blake, please no!"
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove through the gate, "Happy Christmas to all, 31 - 28!"

[thekob]

That

Is

Awesome.

Is it too late to order this in Christmas card form?

[ultimatetailgater]

Is there some reason why we have to keep reposting the poem 50 times in this thread.

[lilcocky2004]

Dan Scott just said he was going to read this poem on his show, someone had sent it to him, he said Clemson fans would not like it , but he found it to be cute !! Hes on 104.9 FM, here in Greenville ! WCCP 104.9 HEY DID HE SAY WHEN HE WAS GONNA DO IT??? IF SO LET ME KNOW SO I CAN MAKE SURE TO LISTEN.THANKS:lol: :bow:

[cockyhoskins]

Is there some reason why we have to keep reposting the poem 50 times in this thread.

People keep reposting in a new thread and I just merge into this one. That way it bumps it and it is more polite than just deleting it.

Besides, when this is said and done, this thread is going into the Hall of Fame as the most reposted thread in CockyTalk history. :lol:

[The Dude]

Is there some reason why we have to keep reposting the poem 50 times in this thread.

its not that people are posting it 50 times in this thread, its that its been posted what seems like 50 times in general...every time its a new thread, and one of the mods moves it into this one huge thread.

[Cocks01]

GAMECOCK CHRISTMAS POEM
Christmas in Clemson

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the town, not a tiger fan was stirring.. not one could be found. Christmas was coming, but no one could care - the stench of defeat still hung in the air. Coach Bowden was tossing, sleepless in bed, while visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head. He was wearing his cap, which read, 'Go Crimson Tide!' and trying to forget how his season had died. When, out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter. He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass showed Gamecock footprints from the game that had passed. When, what did he see while adjusting his hat, but a great Cock-a-Boose pulled by ragged, orange cats.. with a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he break. Bowden knew in a moment - it must be St. Blake.

The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain, so Blake beat them and shouted and called them by name: 'Now, Proctor! Now, CJ! Now, Reggie and James! On, Stuckey! On, Adams! On, Gaddis and Duane! We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done and rub that old rock one more time just for fun!' Then the Gamecocks stood guard o'er the tigers out back as they painted poor Tommy's house garnet and black. As Bowden drew in his hand and was turning around, the ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down. He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin; he had made a new coat from some old tiger skins. Several more tigers he had flung on his back - Jacoby, Jad Dean, and Davis, in fact. His eyes - how they twinkled! His countenance - how merry! He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had buried.

But Tommy stood blank-faced, his stomach still queasy. He knew that next year was not going to be easy. He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man, and Steve laughed when he saw him and thought of his fans. They stood face-to-face, Bowden wanted to run.. he could hear the theme song from 2001. The ghost spoke not a word but went straight to his plan, leaving Tanneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand. And raising his visor in salute, as on cue, he said, 'See ya next year!' and he faded from view. Blake sprang to the Cock-a-Boose and to the cats said, 'Let's go!' The tigers all cried, saying, 'No, Blake! Please, no!' But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove though the gate, 'Happy Christmas to all! 31-28!!!'"

[Spur's Addiction]

:rotfl::rotfl:

Here it is 1 more time!

[PyroPepper]

That never gets old, LOL!