Twas the night before Signing Day, when all through Butts-Mehre
Not a creature was stirring, except Daryl Jones and his peers.
The fax machines were well stocked, paper loaded with care,
In hopes that all the 5 stars soon would be there.
Chuck was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of great linemen danced in his head.
Macon roasting his pig, and Dave preparing his crockpot,
While Richt made his phone calls to fill the last spot.
When out of Oxford there arose such a clatter,
A well placed pause surely wasn't the matter.
Away to home of that big time recruit,
Went McClendon, Bobo, and Lily, each in their finest track suit
The moon gently rose, to kick off that February night
With less than 7 months to go before Kyle's beloved Dawg and Cat fight.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But man 6'6, 300, as nimble as a deer.
But don't daudle, don't delay, Richt must be quick,
Or he might lose them all to the Saban called Nick.
More rapid than mopeds his kids swiftly came,
As grown men whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Ramsey! now, Terry! now, Wiggins and Green!
On, Kublanow! On, Johnson! on Rankin and McGee!
To the top of the rankings! to that crystal ball!
Now lift and practice! Become Junkyard Dawgs y'all!"
As dry leaves of winter slowly become spring,
Soon becomes summer, then fall tailgaiting.
Our eyes will turn to Clemson on August 31st
As we sip bourbon and Coca-Cola to whet our football thirst.
But please keep in mind, when signing day dawns
That we're obsessing over children who just finished playing on our lawns.
Not that such a thing will diminish the cheer,
and happiness over stealing the best recruit away from Tech's veer.
From Seattle to Athens, and all points in between,
Tonight linebackers and left tackles will provide the dream.
And that new quarterback's spiral, best described as art in midflight,
Happy Signing Day to All, and to All a Good Night.