Cummings and Goings

I'm not sure how much sense these poems make, but that's what happens when I tackle e.e. cummings. His poetry is often disorganized, nonsensical, and hard to understand, so I suppose it's an appropriate poetic choice for the week we're playing Kentucky. Hopefully we'll cruise to an easy berth in the SEC championship game, but in the meantime, with apologies to cummings:

Cootie Harrow's


                                              that laid me

                                              flat on wartiglesman-butt

                                                                                             I try to stand

I can see onetwothreefourfive Cootiesbeforemyeyes


said they got him for Crowell

                                                                      yet now I know oh the pain

getting rammed by charging Cootie is truly




G      (ca

An              n't


Th    GATA      sp       

Am              ell

        w/o) r




If winning were easy and reffing fair,

if Bobo were right and the O didn't bog,

losses would be rare

the whole team would be there

yet I'm fully aware

Dawgs wouldn't be Dawgs.


If the blogs lacked bias and boards were nice,

and none made noisy new coaching plans,

and someone liked Weis

then I'd say in a trice

nice doesn't suffice;

fans wouldn't be fans.


If Tigers are sucky and lacking in dough,

and sporting an offense that's modern

we all will know

to expect status quo

and know they will show

Auburn's gonna Auburn.


If everything happens in spite of it all,

(and offense escapes from

Green Notebook's

mad plan)

our winningest head coach will lead us yet

(give the ball

to Crowell

end-around, yes)

to win the East how crazy y'all


Our D gets an A in class GATA

(and, what's more,

does it all

without pay)

four rushing yards they may give up to you;

one yard a quarter is all you can do.

Not like it you may.


If Dawgs exceed Dawgs and fans exceed fans

(and Bobo calls better

than note books

can plan)

then we'll beat the cats and bees and tigers

(not to mention



you can't spell SEC without East.


Now I love Dawgs and Dawgs love me

(we fans

don't like

the GNB)

Our D their offense does nothing but stop

(and QBs we

tidy up with

a mop)

Big Bad John triggers the Richter scale.


We're anything greater than sum of our parts

(our O is much greater

than notebooks

are smart)

We can win the SEC I believe

(with an O


and time-eating drive)

We're awesomer times infinity.

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