The football, season, and plot,
I know of no reason why last football season
Should ever be forgot.
To lose out, go 3-9, 'twas his intent
To blow up the Coach and pleasure the mob a bit.
Three score shavings of each game below,
Poor old Amato to overthrow;
By God's unprovidence he was catch'd
With dark shades and burning shoes to match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, make the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the AD!
Hip hip hoorah! shouted the dwellers


The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.


What is to be done?

A penny loaf to feed the AD.
A farthing o' cheese to choke him.
A pint of beer to rinse it down.
A faggot of sticks to burn him.
Burn him in a tub of tar.
Burn him like a blazing star.
Burn his body from his head.
Then we'll say ol' Fowler is dead.
Hip hip hoorah!
Hip hip hoorah hoorah!

5/20/2007 11:48:59 PM

first no care ev4r

5/20/2007 11:55:23 PM

message_topic.aspx?topic=400622

5/21/2007 12:04:23 AM

Well we found Earl

5/21/2007 12:08:07 AM